


An Arrow in Time

by BstnStrg13



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014), Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-04-17 21:02:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 53,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14197638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BstnStrg13/pseuds/BstnStrg13
Summary: What started as a simple trip to Central City with Barry Allen ends up with Felicity Smoak stranded more than a hundred years in the past.   She has no means of contacting her husband, Oliver Queen, and every minute she spends in 1884 risks some event that could change their present lives together.  Back in twenty-first century Star City, Oliver searches frantically for a way to rescue his wife.If only someone had a time machine...Arrow meets Timeless.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bushlaboo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bushlaboo/gifts).



_"The distinction between the past, present and future is only a stubbornly persistent illusion." - Albert Einstein -_

* * *

 

_Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right_

_Here I am,_

_Stuck in the middle with you_

_Yes, I’m stuck in the middle with you…*_

 

The song would not leave Felicity Smoak’s head.   It had been there the moment she woke up and had stubbornly remained there for the rest of the morning.  Nothing she did would get rid of it; not sunrise sex with her very attractive husband, not eating breakfast and brushing her teeth, not even singing along with Pink on the radio during the drive to her old apartment.   Nope – the damn chorus just kept rattling around in her brain, no matter what she did. 

_Stuck in the middle with you…_

The song had been a hit back in the seventies, so by all rights, she was too young to know or care about it.  But it was one of her mom’s favorites and she’d heard it a lot growing up.  Plus, it was something of a classic.

_Stuck in the middle with you…_

She had a pretty good idea _why_ the song was lodged in her head, even if she couldn’t figure out how to get rid of it.  It was because she was headed to her old loft apartment to work with Curtis Holt on their startup company, Helix.   _Stuck in the middle_ just seemed to sum up her relationship with Curtis these days.  The two of them were in this weird place where they were still business partners but no longer friends.

Their falling out was precipitated by Curtis quitting Team Arrow in a blaze of acrimony a few months ago.  Curtis was a vocal member of the _Oliver Queen lied to us and spied on us_ chorus, along with Dinah Drake and Rene Ramirez, and he just couldn’t seem to stop ranking on Oliver at every opportunity.  Despite this, Felicity had agreed to keep working with him on Helix.  From a business standpoint, it made perfect sense.  She was a brilliant coder; he was a wizard with electronic circuitry.  She could design a processor that was smaller than a flea’s eyeball; he could make the thing durable enough to last a lifetime.  Together, they had a much better chance of making their company a success than they did as individuals.

Unfortunately, what their partnership also meant was that Felicity was forced to spend a considerable amount of time with a man who had, on numerous occasions, said some not very nice things to and about her husband.  As they worked, she often looked at Curtis and felt tempted to whack him over the head with her heaviest laptop -- or at least tell him to get his head out of his ass in her loudest of Loud Voices.  But -- for better or worse -- Curtis was her business partner, so she sucked up her anger and did her best to spend the daytime hours working with him constructively and cordially. 

And then, at night in the bunker, she listened to him more than once tell her husband – who cared desperately about Star City and had sacrificed greatly for it -- that he was a jerk who couldn’t be trusted.   And, as badly as she wanted to, she didn’t scream in Oliver’s defense.  No -- she said nothing; she just seethed with regret and anger.

And then the next day she got up and did it all over again.

She wasn’t sure if that made her the clown or the joker, but she was willing to bet that that was why a song that last hit the Billboard 100 in 1973 kept popping into her head.  

_Stuck in the middle with you…_

_Stuck in the middle with you..._

_Frack._

Felicity opened the door to the loft and was relieved to find that Curtis hadn’t arrived, even though it was fairly late in the morning.  It felt good to have the place to herself and to begin work without having to freeze her face into the neutral expression she was trying so hard to maintain.  She remembered the days when she had actually enjoyed collaborating with Curtis and wondered if she would ever get back to that point.  At the moment, it didn’t seem likely.

She sat down in front of one of their many computers and opened up the latest program she was developing.  Coding usually had a soothing effect on her, but the lines of C++ did nothing to improve her mood today.   As if sensing her attitude, the program refused to cooperate.  It crashed multiple times and gave her crap for output when she was finally able to run it.  After an hour, she decided that she needed to take a break and hear a friendly voice; someone to tell her that things would get better – and _something_ to get that damn song out of her head.

 _Stuck in the middle with you_ …

She would have liked to call Oliver.  He was her best friend as well as her husband, and the mere thought of him looking sexy in his suit as he spoke with her from the Star City mayor’s office gave her a smile.  But Oliver was smack dab at the heart of the Team Arrow controversy and he had enough on his plate without her giving him a reminder of his sullen former team members.  John Diggle, her next best friend, was in a similar situation.  

So she called Cisco Ramon in Central City.  Her buddy in all things technical, Cisco could almost always be counted on for a cheery word, or at least a bad pun.  And, as a member of the evil-fighting, superhero-led Team Flash, he appreciated the complexities of team dynamics better than most.  He’d even had to work his way through his own differences with The Flash himself, Barry Allen.  Felicity was fairly sure he would understand and be sympathetic.  

Cisco answered on the first ring.  “Hey Smoak, what’s happening?”  He sounded upbeat, although a little breathless.  She wondered if that was because he and the rest of the team were in the midst of a crisis.

She hesitated.  “Am I getting you in the middle of something?”

He chuckled.  “No.  Believe it or not, the world is _not_ in peril at this moment.  I was just trying to finish a couple of things here in the lab and then meet the crew for an early lunch.”

“You’re all going out to lunch together?”  She couldn’t keep the wistfulness out of her voice.  It sounded like such a _team-ish_ thing to do.  Like something she and Oliver might have once done with Curtis, Rene and Dinah.

There was a pause and then Cisco said more soberly, “Felicity, what’s wrong?”

“Oh, Cisco.” She opened her mouth to tell him about the current mess that Team Arrow had become and the uncomfortable situation with Curtis, but then checked herself.   She realized, a little late, that she might sound childish and gossipy.  Cisco could laugh, or even worse, tell her that she needed to grow up, pick a side, and get herself out of the middle.

And the sad part was -- he’d be right.  She _had_ the power to get herself out of her current predicament.  She just didn’t have the nerve.

So she tried to brighten her voice.  “Nothing’s wrong,” she replied. “I was just calling to…to…to tell you how great the frequency blockers you developed for Oliver’s arrows are working.  He used them last week on a mission and the bad guys _completely_ couldn’t communicate with each other.  It was awesome.”  She gave herself a small pat on the back.  That sounded pretty believable.

There was another pause.  Then Cisco said, “Nah…I’m not buying it, Felicity.  Something is definitely bothering you.  Out with it.”

She felt the tears beginning to pool in her eyes.  Damn. 

“Okay,” she admitted, “there _is_ something bothering me.  But it isn’t something you can help with, and I honestly don’t want to talk about it now.  In fact, I’d like to talk about anything _except_ it.  That’s why I called – to get my mind off of it.”

Cisco cleared his throat.  “Is everything okay with you and Oliver?” he asked gently. 

What?  Oh crap.  Felicity should have known his thoughts would go in that direction.  He’d witnessed a bit of her relationship ups and downs with Oliver over the years and had probably heard even more about them from Barry Allen.  It was natural for him to think Oliver was the reason for her funk. 

She hastened to dispel _that_ idea.

“Everything with Oliver is great,” she answered truthfully, “and I love being married.  Believe me, it’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

She sighed.  “It has to do with the team.  We’re not…we’re not in a good place right now and I’m not handling it well.”

“Maybe you should take a break.”

“From Arrow duties?  Seriously?  Do you know how much is going on?”

Cisco exhaled into his phone.  “Felicity, there’s _always_ something going on.  It’s part of the job description.  If you wait for a lull to take a mental health break, you won’t get one until you’re eighty.  Sometimes you need to step away for your own sanity.”  When she didn’t respond, he added, “I’m not talking about a long hiatus.  Just a night or two.  Do something for yourself – go shopping, get a massage, take a bubble bath.  Forget the team exists for forty-eight hours.  Regain some perspective.”

It sounded tempting, if a little clichéd.  But it was hard to justify pampering herself when Oliver and John were working so hard.  However, she didn’t think it was a good idea to debate it with Cisco.  She didn’t have the energy.  “Okay,” she lied, “I’ll do it.  A couple of days off.”  She did her best to make her voice cheerful.

And apparently, she’d been convincing, because Cisco chuckled and then said, “Good.”  He drew in his breath. “Anything else I can help you with?”

“No.  It was just good to hear your voice.  Thanks for the advice.”

“Anytime.”

And Cisco hung up. 

Felicity turned back to the computer and resumed studying her lines of code.  She felt a little better but still couldn’t seem to muster a lot of interest in the program.  After a few minutes of fruitless reading, she spun around in her chair and gazed out the large windows of the loft.  The sun was shining and the sky was very blue.  She recalled from her drive over that it was warm outdoors but not yet hot – the perfect spring day.    The perfect day, in fact, to be doing anything besides working with a guy who insisted on disparaging her husband.

_Stuck in the middle with you…_

Oh, for God’s sake. 

She picked up the wireless mouse and threw it at the wall.  There was a loud _whoosh_ as she did so, and the mouse was snatched out of the air before it could smash into a hundred pieces.  

And then Barry Allen was grinning at her.

“I think this is yours,” he said, and placed the mouse back on the table, next to the computer.

She gave a little shriek.  For all the times that they had worked together, she still wasn’t used to Barry materializing unexpectedly like this.  She wondered why he had come.  He wasn’t wearing his red speed-suit, which suggested that this wasn’t official Flash business.  He was wearing jeans and a sport jacket.  And he looked relaxed and happy.

Barry was still grinning.  “Hey, Felicity.”

She smiled weakly in return.  “Hi, Barry.  This is a surprise.  I thought you and the team were having lunch in Central City.”

He nodded.  “We are.  Cisco told us you were having a tough day and we thought you might want to join us.”

Evidently, she hadn’t been as convincing as she’d thought.

“Join you for lunch?” she clarified.

He nodded again.  “Yup.”

“ _Now?_ ”  She frowned.  Central City was about six hundred miles away.

Barry’s grin didn’t fade.  “Sure.  I can get you to lunch and then back here in no time.”

Well, that was true.  Felicity knew from experience that Barry could carry her almost as fast as he could run on his own – which would put her in Central City in something less than a minute.  She also knew that being toted around at near light-speed wasn’t particularly pleasant.  Weird things happened to her clothes and her ponytail never seemed to survive the journey.

On the other hand…messy hair sounded a lot better than trying to pretend she wasn’t angry with Curtis when he arrived at the loft to work.   Lunch with Team Flash would give her the chance to think about something else – and it might help with the perspective thing.    _And_ she really was a little bit hungry…

“Okay,” she said to Barry, before she could second-guess herself, “let’s go.”

He nodded. “Right.”

He walked over to her chair with his arms extended.   She stood up and wrapped her own arms around his neck, then pressed her face into his shoulder as he hoisted her up.   She’d learned that the journey was a little more tolerable when she didn’t try to look around.    _At least_ , she thought, _I’m wearing jeans today.  I could have been wearing a mini-skirt and four-inch heels._

“Ready?” Barry asked.

She tightened her arms and closed her eyes.  “Yes.”

“Here we go.”

There was a loud roaring sound and her sense of balance deserted her.  Parts of her felt very warm while other part felt cool, and a stream of colors ran in front of her eyes, behind her closed eyelids.   Her stomach flipped a couple of times.

And then it was over. 

She opened her eyes to find they were in an alley, somewhere in Central City.  Barry gently set her on her feet and she clung to him for a few seconds until she got her bearings. 

“How’s my hair?” she asked him.

He studied her head and raised one eyebrow.  “It’s…good,” he said cautiously.  “The carefree look really suits you.”

“Oh great.”

“Felicity, you’re among friends.  You look fine.”

She stared at him.

“I mean it,” he added.  “Now, let’s go get lunch.”

* * *

Lunch with Team Flash turned out to be a great idea.  Cisco, Barry, Caitlin Snow and Barry’s wife, Iris, each did his or her best to be amusing and entertaining.  More importantly, they were kind.  Cisco must have warned them not to bring up the subject of Team Arrow because they avoided asking Felicity about anyone other than Oliver.  The conversation was light and friendly, and she found herself laughing more than she had in weeks.  She lingered over lunch, doing her best to make dessert and three lattes last for a couple of hours.

Finally, she had to admit that it was time to return to Star City. 

“I suppose I should get back,” she said reluctantly to Barry.  She drained what was left of her latte.  “I can’t thank you all enough,” she added to the rest of the Team.  “I’m in a much better mood now.  You guys really helped.”

“It was our pleasure,” Caitlin said, as Iris and Cisco nodded.  “We should do this more often.”

Felicity smiled in agreement, although she wasn’t sure she could stand being whisked around at Flash-speed too often.  As it was, she hoped that she’d be able to hold onto her lunch for the return journey.  The brownie-ice cream sundae she’d eaten had been pretty big.

After waves to the team, she and Barry returned to the alley near the Central City restaurant.  He held out his arms once more and she allowed herself to be lifted into them.  Then she closed her eyes.

There was the same roaring sound of air and the same stream of colors behind her eyelids as there had been on the trip to Central City.  Her stomach once again turned, but thankfully she didn’t lose the sundae.  She kept her arms tight around Barry’s neck and waited for it to be over.

And waited.

And waited.

Finally, she had to admit that the return to Star City seemed to be taking longer than the trip to Central City.  She started counting seconds in her head and when she got to two hundred, she wondered if she should be worried.  Three minutes and change?  It had taken them less than a minute to go from Star City to Central City.

She put her mouth close to Barry’s ear.  “Barry.”

He didn’t respond.

“Barry!” she repeated more loudly, hoping to be heard over the rush of air. “Is there something wrong?  You’ve been running a long time.”

He gradually slowed and then came to a stop.

“I don’t know,” he said quietly, a frown creasing his forehead.  “I think…I think I might be lost.”

“ _Lost?_ ”

He hung his head.  “Yeah.  When we left Central City it felt like something was chasing us.  I can’t explain it, exactly.  I didn’t see anything, but there was this… _presence_.  I took a few extra turns to try to lose it and ended up running down a tunnel.  When we came out of it, I couldn’t recognize anything.”

That didn’t sound good.

“Put me down,” she suggested.

He did as she asked and Felicity took a look at their surroundings.  They were standing under a tree in what appeared to be a city park.  She could see the outline of buildings in the distance, most of them stone or red brick and none of them terribly tall.  Judging by how far away the buildings were, the park was very large -- and they were somewhere in the middle of it.  There were wide open grassy areas dotted with small sections of woods, and networks of well-groomed paths meandered between the two.  She couldn’t recall ever being in the park or even seeing it before.  There certainly wasn’t anything like it in Star or Central Cities.  It felt warmer than Star City, too, although maybe that was a consequence of having been carried at Barry-speed for several minutes.

She shook her head.  “I don’t know where we are.  I don’t remember ever being here.”

The furrow in Barry’s brow deepened.  “Me either.”

She pulled out her cell phone.  The screen lit up, but she wasn’t getting a cellular signal.  When she opened the Maps app, it told her that her phone had lost the satellite connection. 

So, she couldn’t call anyone and there was no GPS.  Well, that sucked.

“Can you retrace your steps?” she asked Barry. “Go back the way you came?”  She figured she could take the train home if he returned them to Central City.  The train wouldn’t get her to Star City til well after dinner, but she’d be there in time to say goodnight to Oliver’s son, William, and talk with Oliver before they went to bed.

Barry pursed his lips.  “I can try.  C’mon.”

He picked her back up.  She put her arms around his neck and he started running once more.  She tried to keep her eyes open this time, but it was useless.  The pace at which he moved made nothing recognizable and watching objects pass at that speed was truly frightening.   She closed her eyes and began counting off the seconds again.

This time she didn’t have to ask Barry to stop – he did it of his own accord.  When Felicity opened her eyes and looked up, they were under that same tree in the same park.

Damn.

She exhaled heavily.  “Maybe we should find out where we are,” she said to Barry.  “If we have to, we can always get home the old fashioned way.  I’ve got my credit card – I can buy train or airplane tickets.”

“I suppose,” he said grouchily.  After a second, he added in a gentler tone, “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to sound cranky.  It’s just that this is kind of embarrassing.”

Felicity patted his arm.  “Don’t worry about it,” she said.  “I’m sure this is something we’ll look back on and laugh about later.”  _At least she hoped it was_.  

Barry smiled sheepishly.  “Well, I’ll bet Cisco’s going to enjoy giving me a hard time when he hears--”   He abruptly stopped speaking and raised one finger to his lips.  He listened for a few seconds, and then said softly, “I think someone’s coming.”

Felicity held her breath and, sure enough, heard voices approaching – female voices.  She looked toward the nearest path and a pair of women emerged from a cluster of trees.   They were talking animatedly and didn’t notice Barry and Felicity.

The women were dressed strangely -- almost like something from that TV show Felicity used to watch as a kid, _Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman_.   Their elaborate skirts were ankle-length and they jutted out in the back, supported by what she was pretty sure were bustles.   Both of them had their hair pulled up in complicated twists and they carried small cloth bags as purses.

“Interesting outfits,” she murmured to Barry.  “Part of a theater troop?  Or maybe a historical reenactment?”  She noted that the women’s waists were tiny.  “I bet they’re really wearing corsets under all that stuff.   No one’s waist is _that_ small.”  She shook her head.  “I don’t know how women could stand those things.  Talk about uncomfortable.”

Barry studied the women.  “Well, hopefully they live around here,” he murmured in return.  “Then they can help us figure out where we are.”  He straightened up. “Excuse me!” he called out.

At the sound of his voice, the women stopped walking and turned to look at Barry and Felicity.  Barry was wearing his polite, youthful smile, and the women quickly smiled in return.  As their gazes shifted to Felicity, however, their smiles faded.  She watched as their eyes traveled from her low boots to her jeans, to her long-sleeved tunic and finally to her face, and their expressions became confused and worried.  They looked as if they were debating resuming their walk.

“Maybe you can help us,” Barry called out again.  “We’re a little bit lost.”   When the women regarded him uncertainly, he added, “Please?”

Felicity almost grinned.  Barry at his boyish best was hard to resist, especially when he said _please_.   He gave the impression of being gentle (which he was) and completely harmless (which he definitely was not). After a glance at her companion, one of the women – a pretty brunette a few years older than Felicity -- shrugged.

“You’re in Central Park,” she said.  “Almost right in the middle of it.”

“Central Park,” Barry repeated.  “In what city?”

The women raised their eyebrows. 

“New York City, of course,” the brunette replied.

Felicity shook her head.  “This can’t be New York City.  Where’s the Empire State Building?  Where’s the Chrysler Building?” She gestured toward the distant edge of the park, where no structure appeared higher than fifteen stories.

The brunette gave her a strange look. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said after a moment, “but I can assure you that this _is_ New York City.”  She paused and then added, “Given your attire, I assume you are an advocate for women’s suffrage.  Since you appear to be unfamiliar with our city, I would warn you that women can be arrested here for wearing trousers.  We’re not as liberal about these things in the East as you may have become accustomed to out West.”   Her companion, a petite strawberry blonde, nodded in agreement.

Well, that was entirely unhelpful.  “I think they’re taking the historical accuracy thing a little too seriously,” Felicity mumbled to Barry.  “It’s not as if they’re in the middle of their reenactment.”  In a louder voice she said to the women, “Look, I appreciate that you’re trying to stay in character for whatever it is that you’re doing, but we really are lost and would like to get home.  If you could just point us toward a train or bus station, we’ll be on our way.”

The brunette shrugged.  “Grand Central Depot is a few blocks east of the Park.”  She pointed vaguely toward a group of buildings in the distance.  “However, I must repeat that I do not think _you_ will be allowed on the train.”

Oh for goodness sake! This was becoming annoying.  Felicity narrowed her eyes.  “Grand Central _Depot_?  Seriously?  If you could just stop acting for a minute and tell us--”

“Hang on,” Barry interrupted, placing his hand on Felicity’s arm.  “I’m not so sure she’s acting.”  

Felicity frowned.  “What do you mean?”  She thought about the implications of Barry’s words and lowered her voice. “You don’t think she’s really from the nineteenth century, do you?”  When he didn’t answer, she whispered, “You mean you think we’ve shifted in _time_?”

As the words left her mouth, she glanced at the women.  They weren’t laughing, but Felicity was pretty sure that was only because they hadn’t heard her.  It was a crazy theory.

Barry ran his hand over his face.  “I think it’s possible,” he replied quietly.  “I mean, we both know that I’ve been to alternate universes.  I can travel in time, too, given the right conditions.”

Felicity wasn’t ready to believe it.  “Alternate universes are one thing, Barry.  People have been known to bump into parallel worlds on rare occasions.  Traveling in time is a whole other story.  It’s not one of those things that just…happens.  And it’s not as if you were _trying_ to time travel…were you?”

Barry clenched his jaw.  “Of course not.  But maybe that tunnel I ran through was some kind of wormhole.”  He gestured outside of the park.  “I mean, look around you; New York City – with no skyscrapers?  And I’m pretty sure those are horse drawn carriages I see in the distance.  How else do you explain it?  This would have to be one hell of a reenactment to be historically accurate over such a large area.”

 _Time travel_.  Felicity felt a strange thrill, immediately followed by cold fear.  Traveling in time was something she had dreamt about as a kid when she’d devoured books like _A Wrinkle in Time_ and _When_ _You Reach Me_.  The present reality of it, however, was less romantic and more chilling.  Going back in time meant there wasn’t an airplane or a train in the world that could get her home to Oliver.   It meant that she might be stuck here, without him, for the rest of her life … _and_ not allowed to wear pants.

“Barry,” she hissed under her breath, “you need to find that tunnel and bring us back through it.  You need to get us back to the twenty-first century.  I can’t stay in…in…” She called out to the women.  “Excuse, but what is today’s date?”

The brunette paused as if she were counting days in her head.  “It’s the sixth,” she replied.

“Of?”

The woman gave her an odd look.  “June.”  Felicity saw no hint that she was joking.

They had left Central City in April which meant the time travel theory was sounding more probable.  Damn.  Felicity took a deep breath before asking the scariest question. “What year?”

The brunette glanced at her blonde friend and then answered, “1884.”  She didn’t say the words aloud, but _you idiot_ was very much implied in her response.

 _1884_.  O _h holy, motherfracking…_

 _1884._ History hadn’t been Felicity’s favorite subject, but even she knew that 1884 was a time when most folks didn’t have electricity, let alone cell phones or computers. There were gas lamps and horses, and questionable sanitation.  It was a time that rendered Felicity’s skills useless.  She couldn’t hack her way out of it; she couldn’t even order a takeout pizza.  Her heart plummeted as the brunette’s words confirmed her worst fears.

She grabbed Barry’s hand.  “You need to get us back, Barry,” she whispered sharply.  “Whatever you did when you came out of that tunnel, you need to reverse it… _exactly_.” 

“I just tried that, Felicity.”

“Well, try it again.  And be _really_ precise this time.”

He looked into her eyes.  “You’re scared," he said finally.

“Aren’t you?  Barry, we’re in New York City in fracking 1884!   That’s three thousand miles and a hundred and thirty something years away from where I live.” She squeezed his hand tighter.  “It took me almost six years, but I’m finally with Oliver.  I get to sleep beside him every night and wake up with him every morning.  We don’t keep secrets from each other anymore and we’re happy.”  She closed her eyes.  “And now you want to tell me that I could be separated from him by…by… _over a hundred years_?  Not to mention that I can’t remember if the flush toilet has been invented yet.”  She shook her head. “I don’t understand why you’re not freaking out more.”

Barry smiled weakly.  “I understand about Oliver, Felicity.  You two deserve to be together, the same way Iris and I deserve to be together.  And I’m not freaking out more because I’ve been to a lot of weird places and I always manage to get home.  I _will_ get you back to him from here – I promise.”

“How?”

He thought about it for a few seconds and then shrugged.  “I guess I’m going to try to find that tunnel,” he said.

“Good plan.”  She stepped closer to him and raised her arms.

“But maybe we should wait until our audience has left,” he added.   He gave a barely perceptible gesture in the direction of the two women.  They were openly staring at Barry and Felicity with frowns on their faces.  “I don’t think the nineteenth century is ready for The Flash.”

Felicity nodded and mumbled under her breath, “Oh, right.  Then let’s see if we can get them to leave _now_.” To the women, she called out, “Thank you for letting us know where we are.” ( _Not to mention_ when _we are,_ she thought.)  “We can find our way from here.” When the women didn’t move, she pasted a reassuring smile on her face. “Really -- we appreciate the help and don’t want to hold you up any longer. We’re just going to…to…enjoy the park for a little while.  And then we’ll head for Grand Central Sta- _Depot_.”

The two women looked at each other and didn’t resume walking.  “There’s a dress shop,” the strawberry blonde said, “near the southeast corner of the park.”  She pointed in the general direction.  “I’m sure they’ll have something that can be altered quickly to fit you.  They also have petticoats and corsets.  That way you won’t have any trouble taking the train.”

Felicity raised her eyebrows.  “Umm…okay.  Thanks.”

The blonde’s expression turned wistful.  “You’re lucky to have a husband who allows you to dress like a man.  Is it comfortable -- wearing trousers?  I’ve always wondered.”  She cast a guilty glance at the brunette.

Felicity didn’t bother to correct her about Barry being her husband.  With any luck, she was never going to see these women again so there really was no point.  Instead, she nodded.  “Yes, it’s very comfortable.  I highly recommend it.”

“Oh.”

The brunette and blonde looked at each other once more.  “Well,” the blonde said, “I wish you the best.  Have a safe journey.”  She started down the path but the brunette seemed reluctant to leave.  She followed slowly behind her friend, turning her head every few steps to look at Felicity.  Finally, the blonde took the brunette’s elbow and tugged until the woman was walking by her side.

Barry waited until they were out of sight.  “Ready to try again?” he asked Felicity.

“Yes.”

“Okay.”  He held out his arms.  She climbed into them, thinking that Barry had carried her around a lot more than Oliver had lately.   At any other time she might have made a joke out of it, but at the moment it didn’t feel very funny.  Barry stood still and stared into the distance.

“Is everything all right?” she asked.

He nodded.  “Yes.  Just remembering the route.  I think I’ve got it.”

“Great.”

“Hang on, Felicity.”

She clutched his shoulders and closed her eyes. 

And Barry ran.

After a couple of seconds he called out, “I see it!  I see the tunnel!”

It was too hard to answer him, with the lights and the rushing air, so Felicity just clung tighter, her eyes still closed.

“I’m going into it!”

She smiled.  She was on her way home to Oliver.  She breathed out in relief and thought about telling him her time travel story later tonight.  She wondered if he would be amused or angry.

And then something grabbed her. 

She wasn’t sure what it was.  It didn’t feel like a person – more like a magnetic force – but whatever it was, it wrenched her out of Barry’s arms.  She opened her eyes and saw nothing – not Barry, not another person.  Just the same swirl of colors that she always saw when Barry ran.  She felt helpless, like she was being carried on a current of rushing water, only there was no water – or maybe the _colors_ were the water.    She tried to call for Barry but her voice was lost in the sound of the air.

And then she was motionless.

When she looked up, she was back under the tree in Central Park.  And judging by the buildings, she was back in _old_ Central Park – _1884_ Central Park.

Only this time, Barry was nowhere to be seen.  She was alone.

* * *

* _"Stuck in the Middle with You" by  Stealers Wheel_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bushlaboo got me hooked on "Timeless," so when she mentioned that she'd love to see an Arrow/Timeless crossover, I couldn't resist giving it a shot.  
> This will be pretty short - I'm guessing 20K - 30K words. I'll balance updates to this with my other stories. I'm sorry for the inconvenience, but I just seem to write better when I have multiple stories going at the same time. Weird, I know, but when I focus on just one I get blocked.
> 
> I did a tiny bit of internet research for this and the next chapter. The part about women being arrested for wearing pants in the late 19th century is accurate (if the internet is to be believed). Believe it or not, women were not officially allowed to wear trousers on the floor of the US Senate until 1993!! Senators Barbara McKulski and Carol Moseley Braun defied the old rule in '93 and were instrumental in getting it changed.


	2. Chapter 2

Mayor Oliver Queen was doing his best to give the Star City councilwoman his full attention…and _not_ to look at his cell phone.  He wasn’t succeeding very well.   It was close to four in the afternoon and his texts to his wife had gone unanswered since lunchtime.

All ten of them.

He was concerned.  It wasn’t like Felicity not to reply.  When she was working – hell, even when she was taking a bubble bath -- Felicity responded to his texts.  And if she was busy, she told him so; she didn’t leave him hanging.  As the councilwoman droned on about Star City’s debt and issuing municipal bonds to fund sanitation trucks, Oliver’s mind kept running through the list of reasons for his wife not texting him back.  None of them were good.

He mentally catalogued them from the least to the most serious:

1\. He had done something to upset her. 

At the risk of sounding like an overconfident husband, Oliver thought this one was unlikely.  When he’d left the apartment that morning, she was lying in their bed, smiling happily at him more than a half hour after wakeup sex.  There was no suggestion that he was in the _neighborhood_ of her shit list, let alone on it.  The only thing he’d done since then was go to City Hall and attend a lot of meetings about the budget deficit.  They were depressing, but not something that would upset his wife.  Plus, years of experience told him Felicity wasn’t the kind of woman to employ the silent treatment when she was unhappy.  She was far more likely to let someone know exactly how they had offended her -- loudly.

Which led to potential Reason Number Two:

2\. She had finally lost it with Curtis.

He could tell that working with Curtis was becoming more of a strain for her with each passing day.  Watching her get ready to head to the loft was like watching a balloon gradually deflate; her smile would fade and the sparkle would slowly leave her eyes.   Maybe she and Curtis had decided to clear the air, he thought, and they were spending the afternoon yelling at each other. 

This felt more probable than Reason Number One, but Oliver couldn’t help thinking that four hours was an awful lot of yelling, even for Felicity.   Once she said her piece, it would be more in character for her to storm out.

This brought him to potential Reason Number Three:

3\. Something bad had happened to her.

He didn’t want to believe this one and reminded himself that he had a tendency to be paranoid, particularly where Felicity’s safety was involved.  He tried to convince himself that there was a more innocuous explanation.  After all, she was spending the day in front of a computer, not climbing Mount Everest or jumping out of airplanes.  In the world of secret-identity crime-fighting, that was about as safe as it gets.

Still, she had to drive to the loft, which meant she could have gotten into a car accident.   And he couldn’t stop remembering that Rene Ramirez had fired a gun in her general direction weeks ago when Team Arrow (the _Original_ Team Arrow) had clashed with its defectors.  In fact, the more he thought about it, the list of things that could go wrong was really pretty long.  He hadn’t even gotten to her nut allergy yet.

“Oliver?”

He looked up to see his deputy mayor, Quentin Lance, staring at him.  Quentin looked perplexed and a little irritated, and Oliver got the impression that Quentin had had to say his name several times to get his attention.  He suspected the councilwoman was going to be even more annoyed and reluctantly shifted his gaze to her -- only to find that she had left.   He wondered when that had happened.

He ran his hand over his face. “Yes?” he replied to Quentin.

“You wanna tell me where you’ve been for the last twenty minutes?  I’ll admit that Councilwoman Roberts gets to me too, sometimes, but ignoring her isn’t a good idea.”

Oliver sighed.  He’d known Quentin Lance since he was teenager and had few secrets from the man.  He’d even shared his identity as The Green Arrow with him.  Quentin was on the very short list of people Oliver trusted and it would feel good, he thought, to admit his worries for Felicity.  Quentin rarely pulled his punches.   If he believed Oliver was being stupid, he’d tell him so.

Oliver rubbed the scruff on his jaw.  “I’m a little concerned about Felicity,” he said.  “I texted her a few times at lunch and haven’t gotten an answer yet.  That’s not like her.” 

Quentin’s irritated frown was replaced by a fatherly expression, coupled with what looked to Oliver like amusement.  “Did you and Felicity have a tiff?” he asked.  “Take it from me, Oliver; the first few months of marriage can be tough.  It’s a big adjustment.   Apologize  -- even if you didn’t do anything wrong – and give her roses and chocolate when you get home tonight.  Chocolate works wonders with women.”

Oliver shook his head.  “I’m pretty sure that’s not it.  We’re _not_ having a tiff.  We’re doing really well and we like being married.  I honestly can’t think of a reason why she wouldn’t answer me, other than something bad happened to her.”

“Maybe she lost her phone.”

Oliver stared at Quentin.

The deputy mayor held up his hand.  “Right -- forget I said that.  Felicity and her phone have an intimate relationship.  They’re never more than five feet apart.”   He looked at Oliver thoughtfully. “When did you last see her?”

“I last saw Felicity this morning, right before I left the apartment to come here.”

“What was she doing?” 

Oliver noted that the humor had disappeared from Quentin’s voice.  Before he had come to City Hall, Quentin Lance had been a police detective.  He was starting to sound like one again.

Oliver replied matter-of-factly, “Felicity was still in bed.  We had just… _you know_ …and she said she was going to take her time before going to meet Curtis at the loft.”

Quentin flushed, but continued steadily, “That’s where she was headed?  To meet Curtis Holt?”

“Yes.”

The ex-cop nodded.  “Then we should call Curtis and find out if anything happened with the two of them.”

Oliver stared at him again.

“Right,” Quentin repeated, “forget I said that, too.  Curtis is having a hissy fit and not talking to anyone in Team Arrow right now.”

Oliver exhaled. “Yup.  If anything, the communication has gotten worse since I put Rene in the hospital during our last…disagreement.  The only one of us he _is_ talking to is Felicity.”

“That was a hell of a lot more than a disagreement, and you know it.” 

The statement didn’t come from Quentin.  Oliver’s head snapped in the direction of his office door and he saw with surprise that Curtis Holt was standing there, an angry scowl on his face.  Oliver wondered what on earth could have prompted the visit.  Normally, Curtis would eat dirt rather than come to see him. 

“Really, Oliver,” Curtis began, before Oliver could say a word.  “So now you’re not letting Felicity work with me anymore?  Having our two teams disagree isn’t enough -- you have to screw up our startup company, too?”

Clearly, Curtis hadn’t been there long because he’d missed the discussion about Felicity leaving home that morning to work at the loft.  Oliver gritted his teeth and tried to keep his voice even.  Nothing mattered at this moment except his wife.  “Curtis,” he replied, “I haven’t said a thing to Felicity about Helix.   I know how important it is to her and I would never interfere.   Besides, if you’d stop to _think_ for a moment, you’d know that I couldn’t prevent her from working with you, even if I wanted to.  Felicity’s her own woman.  She does what she wants.”  He paused and glanced at Quentin before asking Curtis, “Did Felicity tell you today that she didn’t want to work with you anymore?  Is that why you’re here?” 

Quentin nodded at the question and looked at Curtis expectantly.  Oliver guessed Quentin was thinking along the same lines as him.  If Felicity had decided to dissolve the business partnership, then that might explain her silence.  She would be devastated at putting an end to Helix.

But Curtis shook his head.  “No – she never showed up.  I got to the loft late today – after lunch – and she wasn’t there.  There was no note, and when I tried calling her, she didn’t answer.  I guess she didn’t even care enough to explain.”

Felicity had never made it to the loft?  Oliver’s feeling of anxiety grew.  He looked at Quentin and saw the man’s brow furrow deeply.

“What time did you get there – exactly?” Quentin asked.

“About one.”  Curtis stared at Quentin and then Oliver.  “Why?  Did something happen to Felicity?”  He sounded a little less angry.

Oliver shook his head.  “I don’t know.  I haven’t had a word from her since lunchtime.  She was fine this morning.  She said she was planning to go to the loft to work with you.” 

He hadn’t intended to make that last sentence sound like an accusation, but Curtis interpreted it that way.  He stuck out his chin.  “So naturally you assumed that I had done something to upset her…and that’s why you haven’t heard from her?  Maybe she just woke up and realized that she married a jerk.”  His anger was back in full force.

Oliver kept his own ire in check.  “I thought it was possible that you two had had a disagreement,” he said neutrally.  “It’s no different than _you_ assuming that I had ordered Felicity stop working with you.”

Curtis glared at him, but Oliver didn’t glare back.  It occurred to him that there was something useful Curtis could do right now and he wanted the man’s cooperation.  Antagonizing him wasn’t going to help.

“Can you locate Felicity’s phone?” he asked Curtis.

Curtis snorted, “You mean, _track_ her, the same way you tracked us all those months ago?  Back when we were still a part of your team and you decided you couldn’t trust us?”

Oliver didn’t blink.  “Yes,” he said.

"I don’t think that will help.”

Oliver looked up quickly.  The voice – another new one to the discussion – originated from behind Curtis.  Oliver paused briefly to marvel at the lack of security in City Hall because, apparently, anyone could get to the Mayor’s office.  Then he, Quentin and Curtis turned to find Barry Allen standing just outside the door.

And Oliver’s heart sank.  It was clear right away that something had happened and it wasn’t good.  Barry’s hair was disheveled and the collar of his sport jacket was ripped.  He looked tired, confused and more than a little worried.  Worse; he couldn’t meet Oliver’s eyes for any length of time.  Oliver didn’t have to ask if this was about Felicity.  He knew that it was.  And in one second, his concerns transformed into genuine fears.

“Barry,” he said, his jaw tight, “what’s happened?”

Barry edged his way around Curtis and walked into the office until he was face-to-face with Oliver.  Then he confirmed Oliver’s fears.  “Oliver, it’s about Felicity.”  His voice was barely above a whisper.

Oliver wanted to shout _, I can see that!  So what is it?  Is she hurt?  Is she…_   He couldn’t even bring himself to think it.  Aloud, he said far more calmly than he felt, “I figured as much.  What’s happened, Barry?”

Barry looked at his shoes.  “We just wanted to give her a good day.”  He was pleading for understanding.  “Lunch with the team in Central City and then back home.  It seemed so simple.”

That didn’t make any sense.  Felicity hadn’t said a thing this morning to Oliver about going to Central City or seeing Team Flash.  “I don’t understand,” he said.  “Felicity was in Star City today.” 

Barry nodded, “She was,” he agreed.  “But then she called Cisco to talk and he could tell that she was a little bit down.  Something about an issue with the team.”  He glanced quickly at Oliver’s face and then back at his shoes.  “So we decided to have her join us for lunch.  I ran to Star City and carried her to Central City and she spent a couple of hours with us.  I think she had a good time,” he added softly.  “She was laughing.”

Barry’s persistent use of the past tense was taking Oliver’s fear to an even higher level.  “She _was_ laughing,” he repeated.  “Does that mean that she’s…she’s--”

“She’s alive, Oliver,” Barry said quickly, realizing he had made Oliver think the worst, “but she’s lost.  I…lost her on the way back to Star City.”

Oliver took a second to breathe at the news that Felicity was alive.  Then he thought about the rest of Barry’s statement.  What the hell did the man mean by _lost_?  After all, Barry was standing here.  _He’d_ made it to Star City.  “I don’t understand,” Oliver repeated.  It was starting to feel like a mantra. 

Barry looked up and reluctantly held Oliver’s gaze.  In Barry’s face, Oliver saw a number of emotions, the predominant one being guilt.  Whatever had happened, Barry believed that he was responsible.  “When I was carrying her back to Star City, I felt a presence following me,” Barry explained. “I tried to evade it, and ended up running down some kind of tunnel.  When I came out of the tunnel, Felicity and I were in New York City.”

New York City.  That didn’t sound so bad.  Oliver breathed again.

“It was New York City _in 1884,_ ” Barry clarified.  “I ran down a tunnel that brought us to the past.”

The office went silent.  Oliver heard the soft _tick-tick_ as the second hand lurched its way around the face of the clock on the wall.  _1884_?  Oh shit.

He didn’t bother to question the time travel assertion, because knew for a fact that Barry was capable of time travel.   He’d done it a couple of years ago when they went up against a villain named Vandal Savage.  What Oliver didn’t understand, though, was how visiting 1884 would lead to Felicity being _lost_.  After all, Barry had journeyed there and he was standing in Oliver’s office now, looking pretty damn normal.  So what had happened to Felicity?

Oliver recalled Barry’s words back when they were fighting Savage.  _When I mess with time it doesn’t end well_.   He also remembered Barry telling him that entire histories could be changed, with people erased from existence and memories.  Oliver reassured himself that that couldn’t have happened to Felicity.  If she’d been “erased,” then he, Quentin and Curtis would have no memory of her now.  So, by _lost_ , Oliver wondered, was Barry really trying to say that Felicity’s timeline had _changed_ ; that she was a different person?

He gritted his teeth.  “Barry, you’re going to have to spell this one out for me.  What exactly do you mean by _lost?_  Is she not… _my_ Felicity…anymore?  Did time travel change her that much?”

Barry shook his head. “To the best of my knowledge, Oliver, she hasn’t changed at all – at least not yet.  By lost, I mean she’s still in 1884 New York.  Someone or something pulled her away from me when I was carrying her back through the tunnel to the present.  I tried to hold onto her…but I couldn’t.”

Well, that explained Barry’s guilt.  He literally had let go of Felicity when he was trying to bring her home.  Oliver felt a surge of anger and then immediately tried to quell it.  Partly because the reasonable part of his brain knew that Barry would have done everything he could under the circumstances, but mostly because he needed to be calm and to figure out what to do next.  The good news, he thought, was that his wife was unhurt and unchanged.  The bad news was that she was unhurt and unchanged in 1884. 

The solution seemed obvious.

“Barry,” he said sharply, “You’ve got to bring _me_ down that tunnel to 1884.  Then I’ll find her.  Once I do, I don’t care how hard something pulls; I’ll hold onto her and make sure she gets back to the present this time.”

Barry shook his head again. “You think I didn’t try that, Oliver?  You think I didn’t try to find her right after this happened?  I can’t find the tunnel now, no matter what I do.  I’ve tried a dozen times to recreate the circumstances, but the damn thing won’t appear.  I’m guessing it was some kind of temporary wormhole.”  

The anguish in Barry’s voice left no doubt about his efforts.  Oliver didn’t know what to say next.  He could do a lot of things with his bow, but opening temporary wormholes was not one of them.  He backed away from Barry until his legs bumped into his desk.  Then he sat.  The room felt like it was spinning and he could feel Felicity slipping away with every passing minute.

Quentin Lance cleared his throat.  “So, let me get this straight,” he said.  “You,” he pointed at Barry, “have the ability to travel in time just by doing…whatever it is you do as The Flash.  You carried Felicity to 1884.  When you tried to run back with her to the present, something pulled her away and kept her in1884 while you continued forward.”  When Barry nodded, Quentin turned to Oliver.  “Normally, I’d say this is the craziest story I’ve ever heard.”  Then he shrugged. “But I have daughter who time travels.  Only, she uses a ship to do it.  Maybe she can use that ship to get Felicity.”

Of course!  How the hell could Oliver have forgotten?  Quentin’s daughter, Sara (aka, the White Canary), was part of a team calling themselves The Legends. They had a ship named the Waverider and they regularly traveled in time.  Going to 1884 should be a piece of cake for them.  Oliver felt hope spark in his chest and he stood back up.

“Call Sara,” he said to Quentin.

Quentin pulled out his cell phone and tapped the screen.  Then he stared expectantly at it.  They _all_ stared at it.

“She’s not answering,” Quentin said after a minute, stating the obvious. 

“Try again.”

Quentin tapped the phone and they waited once more.   Oliver listened to the clock marking the seconds and started counting them.  When he’d gotten to forty, Quentin exhaled and ran his hand over his shaved head.  “I don’t think she’s in cell phone range,” he said. “I’m sorry, Oliver.  I should have thought a little more before I said anything.   I mean, she could be anywhere right now…and any time.  The chances of getting her on the phone when she’s on that ship…”  His voice dwindled.

And, as quickly as it had come, Oliver’s hope faded.   _Another dead end_.  He couldn’t recall ever feeling this helpless; not even years ago when the family yacht sank and he’d been stranded on an island.    He needed to find Felicity and bring her home before history changed – _before she changed_ \-- but he didn’t have a clue how to do it. 

He looked up to find Curtis watching him.  The man’s face was thoughtful, if not fully sympathetic.  “It’s a longshot, Oliver,” Curtis said tentatively, “but there may be someone else who can help.”

He sounded sincere and Oliver figured he would do his best, if only for Felicity’s sake.  “Who?” he asked.

“Connor Mason,” Curtis replied.  “Founder of Mason Industries.”

The name sounded vaguely familiar.   Oliver rooted around in his memory and recalled that his old company, Queen Consolidated, had competed against Mason Industries on a few contracts, back in the year that Oliver had been foolish enough to think that he could run a technology company.  He also remembered that Connor Mason had the reputation of being a scientific genius.

“You’re saying that Connor Mason knows something about time travel?”  Oliver made it half statement, half question.

Curtis nodded uncertainly.  “He might.  A couple of years ago, when I was working at Palmer Tech, there were rumors about a highly secret project at Mason Industries.  Mason was recruiting the best of the best in a number of fields; computer programming, structural engineering, and theoretical physics – particularly relativity and gravitational physics.   Techies looked at the skills he was hiring and figured he was either trying to develop a gravitational weapon or build a time machine.  My money was always on time machine.”

Oliver frowned.  Curtis’s info didn’t seem all that promising.  A few unsubstantiated rumors?

“Do you have anything else?” he asked Curtis.  “Anything more concrete?”

Curtis shrugged.  “Not really.  The only other thing I can tell you is that Mason tried to get Felicity to work for him back then -- he called her several times.  He kept telling her the project at Mason Industries would make her work at Palmer Tech seem like elementary school programming, and that she’d have the chance to see history being made.  The big caveat was that she couldn’t tell anyone about what she did and she’d have to move and work in a top secret location in California.”   

Felicity had never mentioned Mason’s calls to Oliver.  But then, they’d had a lot going on a couple of years ago and there was no reason for her to bring it up if she hadn’t been interested.  Oliver thought about Curtis’s words.  _See history being made_.  It was a big stretch to go from that to _Mason Industries has a time machine_.   On the other hand, the only alternative at the moment was to keep pushing Barry to find the mysterious tunnel – which hadn’t worked in a dozen tries.  Given a choice between doing nothing and contacting Connor Mason, Oliver was going to contact Connor Mason.

He looked at Curtis.  “Do you think you can get a phone number for the guy?  If I google him, I’m just going to get some corporate switchboard number.  They’ll never put me through.”

Curtis shook his head.  “You might not even get that.   There was an explosion at Mason Industries a few months ago.  The company is shut down.” 

Quentin raised his eyebrows.  “An explosion?  Which does that support -- the gravitational weapon or time machine theory?”

Curtis frowned.  “It could support either…or something else altogether.  The explosion left Mason bankrupt and he’s been keeping a low profile ever since.  He even cancelled an appearance at a Tech Symposium at the last moment.  Some people claim he was escorted from it by federal agents.   It’s only added fuel to the rumor mill.”

Oliver decided he didn’t care about the explosion or the federal agents.  At the moment, Connor Mason was the only lead they had for getting Felicity home.  “Do you think you can find Mason?” he asked Curtis again.

Curtis moved to Oliver’s desk and sat down in front of the computer.  “I’m not Felicity,” he said, “but I’ll do my best.”

“Thank you, Curtis.”

* * *

 

Felicity waited for Barry under the tree in Central Park – _old_ Central Park – for close to two hours.  For the first half hour she was hopeful, and for the second she was cautiously optimistic.  After that, things went downhill.  Barry didn’t appear and the only people she did see were wearing 1880’s garb. It seemed like a good idea to avoid them, given the reaction of the two women she’d met earlier.  After checking her watch for what felt like the hundredth time, she finally had to admit that something must have happened to Barry and he wasn’t coming back right away.    She was on her own – at least for the moment.

She tried to stave off her panic.  Yes, she was in 1884 New York City and computers hadn’t been invented yet and her cell phone was useless, but she was still smart, dammit; her brains hadn’t disappeared.  She needed to use them now.  She needed to be logical.

She had no doubt that wherever Barry was, he was trying to come back for her.  He wasn’t the kind of guy to leave a friend in the lurch.  Common sense said she would make it easier for him if she didn’t wander around too much.  New York City, even 1884 New York City, was a big place with a lot of people.  Barry would most likely come back to the last location that he’d seen her, so her best bet was to stay in the park.  (Not to mention that she didn’t exactly blend in wearing jeans and a pair of Steve Madden ankle boots.)

Fortunately, it wasn’t a bad evening to be outside.  The June weather was warm and dry, and other than the occasional mosquito, she was physically comfortable.  Felicity didn’t consider herself to be the outdoorsy type, but she figured she could manage one night in the park if she had to.  Hopefully, one night would be all that was required.   She noticed a park bench a short distance from her tree and decided to sit there.  It was wooden and very similar to benches in modern Star City, which meant it was a little uncomfortable.   _Still, better than the ground_ , she thought. 

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been sitting there when she saw a man approaching.  Her immediate instinct was to get up and leave.  It was the safe thing to do for any woman confronted by an unknown male, especially since the sun was low in the sky and it was going to be dark shortly.  She should pretend, she thought, like she had someplace to be and hurry off before he got any closer.

Something about the man’s expression stopped her, however.  He was young, maybe only a couple of years older than her, and he looked almost as lost as she felt.   He was very tall and thin, and the suit he was wearing – which might have been expensive at one time – was rumpled and well-used.  Felicity got the impression that he’d been walking for hours.  He moved toward the bench tentatively, and then sat down a respectful three feet away from her. 

“Good evening,” he said.

He had an accent.  It sounded Slavic, although she couldn’t place the specific country. 

“Good evening,” she replied cautiously.

“Can you tell me where there is a good restaurant, not too…” he was searching for the word, “expensive?  Is that how you say it?  I am new to New York City.”

Felicity shook her head.  “No…no, I’m sorry, I can’t help.  I’m new to New York City also.”  _Damn_.  She wasn’t supposed to admit that.  She had just told herself she was going to act as though she was a native, with someplace to be.

Fortunately, the man smiled in a gentle, rather than a predatory, way.   He was kind of handsome, she thought, for an 1880’s guy.  He had a thick head of black hair, parted in the middle and worn short.  His eyes were lighter – grey or blue, maybe -- and very intelligent.

“I just came to New York today,” he said.  “My first day in America.”

No wonder he looked at little lost.  _Mine too_ , she thought.  _Or, more accurately, it’s my first day in nineteenth century America_.  Aloud, she asked, “Where are you from?”  

“Serbia.  You know it as part of the Austrian Empire.”

Actually, she knew it as Serbia.  In her world, the Austro-Hungarian Empire hadn’t existed for about a hundred years. 

 “And where are you from?” the man asked.

Felicity hesitated and then replied, “Out west,” waving one hand vaguely toward the setting sun.  “I’m American, but I live on the west coast.  I have never been to _this_ …city before.” 

“Out west,” the man repeated.  “Is that why you are dressed as a…” he was searching for words again, “a cowboy?”  He gestured at her jeans.  “It is most unusual attire for a woman, but then I believe your wild west is a most unusual place.  We have heard stories back home.”

Felicity almost smiled.  It was as good an explanation as any, she thought, for her clothing.  She nodded.  “Yes, many women dress like this where I come from.  It’s…practical.”

“Practical,” the man replied with a frown, “but very bold.  I cannot imagine my sisters dressing like that.”  He shook his head.  “Even my mother wore skirts – and she ran our farm when I was a boy.”

His tone was disapproving and Felicity’s urge to smile disappeared.  She decided to change the subject.  “Why have you come to America?” she asked.

The man leaned back on the park bench.  “To work.  I am starting a job in Mr. Edison’s shop in Manhattan.  I know a lot about electricity.”  He sounded more confident on that last sentence and very enthusiastic.  Evidently, electricity was his thing.

_Of course_ , Felicity thought, _this is the time that Thomas Edison is beginning to_ _build electrical plants_.   She dimly recalled from her Intro to EE class that Edison, despite his amazing inventions, had actually missed the mark when it came to delivering electricity.  His insistence on using direct current, or DC, left him behind competitors who believed in the superiority of alternating current.   AC had gone on to become the standard and Edison’s chief rival, Westinghouse, had gotten a huge head start before Edison finally saw the light (so to speak).

She noted the man on the bench was still smiling.  _Poor guy_ , she thought.  _He’s come all the way from Serbia and he’s going to work for the wrong company._ _That kinda sucks._ She wondered if he was even aware of the controversy.   

“So you believe as Edison does – that DC is the right way for distributing electricity?” she asked carefully.

The man’s eyes widened and his smile disappeared.  “You know about electricity?”   

Felicity blushed.  “A little.  I studied it in college.”

The man sat up straight.  “Women study the sciences in America?  This _is_ a most unusual country.  Not only do women dress like men, but they take the same subjects at university.”  He narrowed his eyes.  “Since you say you have studied electricity, what is _your_ opinion?  Do _you_ think Edison is right?”

She wasn’t sure if he was asking the question to test or to humor her.   Either way, she didn’t see any harm in answering honestly.  Felicity was a little foggy on the dates, but she was pretty sure AC was validated sometime in the 1880’s, bringing an end to the War of the Currents. Whatever she said now would be general knowledge soon, if it wasn’t already.   “I think AC might be the better choice for transmitting electricity,” she replied.  “It allows the current to travel great distances – you don’t need to locate the generation plant close to the houses.  DC can only travel for a mile or two.”

The man burst into a huge grin.  “You _have_ studied electricity!” he exclaimed.  “And we agree!  AC is the superior technology.” 

“Then why are you going to work for Edison?”

He shrugged.  “I must start somewhere.  And everyone knows the great Thomas Edison.  He has funding and resources.  I believe once I am there, I can convince him to change his mind.”

_Yeah, good luck with that one_ , Felicity thought.  Edison was renowned for his stubbornness.

The man slid a little closer on the bench and peered at her closely.  “You are a most unusual and extraordinary woman,” he said.  “May I ask your name?”

Once again, she didn’t see any harm in giving it.  She was never going to see him again.  “Felicity,” she replied.  “My name is Felicity.”

“Felicity,” the man repeated.  “That is a nice name.  In English, it means happiness, does it not?”  Without waiting for an answer, he continued.  “My name is Nikola.  Nikola Tesla.” 

_Nikola Tesla?_  

_Oh holy shit!_

Felicity nearly choked.  Tesla was the freakin’ _father_ of AC.   _And_ he’d invented the induction motor, which powered nearly every household appliance in existence (although not her beloved computers).  He’d even experimented with wireless delivery of electricity.  The man had a gazillion patents and was a true genius. 

And he had a really cool car named after him.

Felicity extended her hand, all the while thinking _, I’m about to shake hands with Nikola Fracking Tesla_.   “Pleased to meet you,” she managed to get out.  To her surprise, Tesla didn’t shake her hand, but instead lifted it and pressed his lips lightly to her knuckles. 

The man had just kissed her hand _.   Nikola Tesla_ had just kissed her hand.   

“It is my pleasure,” he replied.

Felicity smiled.  Maybe time travel wasn’t the worst thing in the world after all, she thought; not if it allowed her to meet someone like Nikola Tesla.  But just as she had that idea, it also occurred to her that there was a chance she was playing with fire.  A twenty-first century technical expert probably shouldn’t be talking to a nineteenth century inventor, especially when the expert wasn’t one hundred percent clear on her history.  A slip of the tongue and things could change in ways they weren’t meant to. 

She gave silent thanks that she hadn’t mentioned induction motors or wireless electricity and promised herself that she wouldn’t say one more word about anything technical.  Nikola Tesla was going to have to figure things out for himself, without any hints from the future.  He was a genius; it shouldn’t be a problem.

Unfortunately, it also occurred to her -- a little late – that he was a genius who appeared sort of… _interested_ in her.  Maybe it was her imagination, but he was still holding her hand and there was a gleam in his eye that Felicity thought she recognized.  It was similar to the gleam she had seen in Oliver’s eye for almost two years before he finally got up the nerve to ask her out.  Now that she was married to Oliver, she didn’t want to see that gleam from anyone except him -- not even from a genius like Tesla. 

Besides, Tesla was about a hundred and fifty years too old for her.

“I think I should be going,” she said abruptly, tugging her hand away. “It’s getting late.”

Tesla frowned.  “I thought you might have supper with me.  We can talk more about electricity.”

Holy crap!  It wasn’t her imagination; he really _was_ interested in her _._   She was experiencing the nineteenth century version of being hit on.

She shook her head.  “I’m sorry.  That’s very kind and it sounds interesting, but I’m…I’m visiting family and I promised to have supper with them.  I’m going to be late if I don’t leave now.”  Not the greatest excuse in the world, but the best she could come up with on short notice.

Tesla’s brow furrowed.  “I thought you said you were raised out west.  Isn’t your family there?”

Oh hell.  “I _am_ from out west,” she confirmed, “but I have…cousins... in New York City.   I’m only here for a few days so I should be spending time with them.  They’ll think I’m very impolite if I don’t.”  She stood up and began to edge away from the bench, toward the nearest path through the park.

Tesla stood up also.  “Then perhaps we might meet tomorrow?  You can bring one of your cousins with you if you wish to have a chaperone.”  

The man wasn’t getting the hint.  She had the feeling that if she started walking away, he was going to follow her.  “Fine,” she said desperately.  “We can meet here tomorrow.”   And with any luck, she thought, she’d be safely back in the twenty-first century by then.  She might even be using her espresso maker -- which she was pretty sure ran on an induction motor.

He smiled.  “Very well.  I will meet you at this bench tomorrow, then.  Six o’clock.”

She nodded.  “Yes.  That sounds good.  Goodbye.  It was…nice…meeting you.”  She turned and nearly ran to the path, not looking back.  She had no idea where she was going, but she figured it didn’t matter because was just going to circle around and return to the bench when Tesla was gone.  Then she would wait for Barry.

Except things didn’t work out that way. 

When she was few hundred yards down the path, she noticed a man and a woman walking toward her.   It took her a minute in the dimming light, but Felicity eventually recognized the woman as the brunette she and Barry had met in the park earlier that afternoon.    The woman was staring at Felicity with an odd expression.  Fortunately, it wasn’t menacing.  In fact, Felicity thought the brunette had a kind face – very pretty and intelligent.

She didn’t think the man looked menacing either, until his suit jacket swung open to reveal a pistol holstered to his hip.  In contrast to the jacket, the pistol looked very twenty-first century; similar to the Glock her friend, John Diggle, carried at home on Arrow missions.    

Felicity didn’t spend too much time analyzing the incongruity between the clothing and the weapon.  _Whatever is going on_ , she thought, _it probably isn’t good_.  She turned and ran. 

Her fears were confirmed when the man ran after her.   Felicity headed toward a small wooded area, figuring she had a chance to get away if she could disappear in the trees, but the man caught up with her before she got there.  He grabbed her around the waist and swung her off her feet, holding her tightly as she twisted and wriggled. After she'd struggled fruitlessly for a minute, he put her down and clamped one hand around her arm, then pointed his pistol at the small of her back with his other hand.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said.  “I just want information.  So please don’t try to run again.”

Felicity gave him an incredulous look.  “I have a hard time believing the part about not hurting me,” she gasped, “given that you’re pointing a gun.”  She nodded at the weapon.  “And a pretty damn big gun, too.”

The man shrugged – almost apologetically, Felicity thought.  He kept his hand tight on her arm, but lowered his weapon to his side.  Before he could say anything, his female companion caught up to them.  She was holding her skirts up at her knees and breathing heavily from running.  Much of her glossy brown hair had fallen out of its complicated, nineteenth century hairdo, giving her a more modern look.   Felicity guessed that she was in her early to mid-thirties.

To Felicity’s surprise, the man grinned at the woman.

“You’re getting a little slow there, Luce.  I didn’t think you were ever going to catch up.”

The woman rolled her eyes.  “You try wearing one of these damn bustles under a long skirt, Wyatt, and we’ll see how fast _you_ can run.  It feels like I have a small table tied to my backside.” 

The man laughed, but kept his hold on Felicity’s arm.

Felicity stared at both of them.  For some reason, she felt a little bit less afraid. “You’re not from 1884.” she finally managed to say.  It seemed like an obvious statement at this point.

The woman shook her head.  “No, we’re not.”  She looked briefly into the eyes of the man she’d just called Wyatt, and added, “And we know you aren’t either.  We want to know who you are, how you got here, and what the hell you’re doing with Nikola Tesla.”

Good question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I didn’t bore folks by making Tesla and electricity part of the story. One of the things I enjoy about “Timeless” is the history that comes with each episode, and watching Lucy, Wyatt and Rufus work to keep that history intact. Since Felicity’s a techie, I knew I wanted to bring her into contact with a 19th century inventor for the history part of this story. I started with Edison, but Tesla felt like he had more potential. He’s very close to her in age at this time and not yet established, so things can go in a lot of different directions. 
> 
> As you might have guessed, their contact is going to have ramifications.
> 
> As you can also tell, I decided to exclude The Legends from this story. I’ve learned, as I’ve plotted this out, that time travel is tricky to write (and I’ve gained a healthy respect for folks who write it well). Each series has its own set of rules for time travel and blending the two was going to be ugly. This story is going to play by “Timeless” rules. That means: 1. You can only travel to the past and not the future. 2. You can’t travel to a time/location where you have already been. (You can’t risk meeting yourself in the past). 3. There is one reality (or timeline), which can be changed by changing the past. I’m discarding the possibility of multi universes (sorry, Barry Allen).
> 
> Finally, for folks who love “Timeless,” I hear it’s on the bubble again for renewal (even though, IMHO, season 2 is even better than season 1). So – be vocal about your support for the show. It helped before.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not the full chapter that I had intended to post so I'll apologize now for making it shorter than normal. I'm posting today to ask folks who aren't regular Timeless watchers to join the rest of us and watch the show live tonight. It's on the bubble for renewal and they'd like to get good numbers. (And if it is renewed, maybe NBC will be smart enough to move it to an earlier timeslot.)
> 
> Honestly, if you don't watch it, you're missing out. For Arrow fans -- it's got a great team, a great couple to ship, and it's intelligently written. And, good heavens, the evil mother is played by Susanna Thompson (aka Moira Queen), so --really, it's fate.

“And you’re saying you didn’t travel in a ship of any kind?” the man called Wyatt demanded.

It was the third or fourth time he’d repeated the question, even though Felicity had given him the same answer every time.  She looked him in the eye again and nodded.   She didn’t think she could be any clearer.

She’d told Wyatt and Lucy the story of how she’d ended up in 1884 New York; told them about The Flash carrying her (being careful to leave Barry’s name out of it) and how they’d emerged from the mysterious tunnel into old Central Park.   Other than The Flash’s identity, she’d omitted nothing.  As far as she could tell, there was no reason not to share.  She hadn’t traveled to the past by choice and all she wanted now was to return to her home and her husband.  If Lucy and Wyatt had the ability to jump back in time, then it stood to reason they had the ability to jump forward again and bring her with them.  If they didn’t like her being in 1884  – which, clearly, they didn’t -- then they should take her home.  It seemed perfectly simple.

But apparently Wyatt didn’t see it as simple because he kept interrogating her.  “You’re sure?” he said again.   

She sighed with exaggerated patience.  It was almost dark and it felt like they’d been standing on the path in Central Park for hours. “Yes,” she confirmed, “I’m sure.  There was no ship.  I think I would have remembered if I’d been in one.”

Wyatt and Lucy exchanged glances.  They continued to appear skeptical. 

“It doesn’t make sense.  I don’t see how else you could have gotten here,” Wyatt said flatly.

Felicity shifted her weight from one foot to the other.  They were sore after her attempt to sprint away in fashionable boots.  “Look,” she said, “Physics predicts that wormholes exist and that they connect different parts of the space-time continuum.  They’re in Einstein’s equations.  The Flash and I assumed that we found a wormhole and went down it when he was moving near light speed.  I’ll admit it’s not something that happens every day, but it _is_ possible.  And it would explain how I got here.”

Lucy frowned.  “Are you a physicist?”

Felicity hesitated briefly before replying, “No – it’s not my job. But I’ve studied physics and I’m good with the sciences in general.”  She didn’t bother to add that she had a pretty damn high IQ on top of that.

Wyatt and Lucy looked at one another again.  Felicity got the sense that the two were conducting some kind of silent conversation.  Eventually, Wyatt said aloud to Lucy, “Do you think there’s a chance that what she’s saying actually happened?”

Lucy pursed her lips.  “Physics isn’t exactly my specialty.  Historically speaking, she’s right about Einstein predicting the existence of wormholes.  They’re an outcome of his general relativity equations, first recognized by another physicist in 1916.”  When Wyatt remained silent, she continued, “What about you, Wyatt?  Do you know anything about The Flash?  He seems like the kind of guy the military might be interested in.  Her explanation becomes a little more believable if he really can move at light speed.”

Wyatt gave a noncommittal shrug.  “We heard stories about The Flash when I was in Special Ops, but to be honest, a lot of the guys thought the reports of his abilities were exaggerated.  You know, Central City’s way of trying to put itself on the map.”  He flicked his gaze to Felicity and then back to Lucy.  “Anyway, even if half of what we heard about The Flash is true, what reason would the guy have for knowing _her_?  She doesn’t exactly seem like the type to have a superhero boyfriend.  She seems too,” he paused, searching for words, “too wholesome.”

Felicity was getting annoyed at being talked about as if she weren’t there.  Not to mention the fact that she did indeed have a superhero _husband,_ and the things he had done to her that morning hadn’t been _wholesome_ at all _._   “First of all, The Flash is _not_ my boyfriend – he’s just a friend,” she said tersely.  “And second; the two of you don’t exactly strike me as the time-traveling types either, and yet, here you are.”  She shook her head.  “At least _I_ was smart enough hide my cell phone from Tesla.  You,” she pointed at Wyatt, “came marching down with the path with your twenty-first century gun exposed for all the world to see.  You’re lucky no one other than me actually saw it.”

Lucy smiled sweetly at Wyatt.  “She has point there.”

Wyatt narrowed his eyes back at Lucy but didn’t reply.  Felicity got the feeling that arguing was a comfortable habit for them, similar to the way she and Oliver used to argue in their early “Arrow” days (and sometimes argued still).  She wondered how often Lucy and Wyatt had travelled through time together.   Enough to form a tight working relationship, she thought.  The two seemed to rely on one another and clearly respected each other.

“Well,” she asked both of them, “what do you want to do now?  If we’re going to hang around Central Park with the two of you talking about me, can we at least go to the bench and sit down?  I’m tired, and I’d like to be someplace The Flash can find me when he manages to get back here.”

Lucy glanced at Wyatt and then shook her head.  “No,” she replied to Felicity, “we’re not going to stay in Central Park.  We’re leaving, and you’re going to come with us.”

Felicity said, “I am?” at the same time that Wyatt said, “She is?”

Lucy nodded.  “Yes.”  She turned to Wyatt.  “Look, the Mothership may be gone now, but we know it came to 1884 earlier today.  I’ve got to think that this woman,” she paused and looked at Felicity.  “What’s your name, by the way?”

“Felicity.  Felicity Smoak.”

Lucy nodded again. “Well, I’ve got to think that _Felicity_ ending up in old New York at the same time as the Mothership might not be a coincidence.  We should talk to Rufus and see what he thinks.  He can tell us if the wormhole story is even plausible.  And if it is, and this all just some horrible mistake, then we can take Felicity home.” 

Wyatt frowned.  “I agree that it _can’t_ be a coincidence -- which means there’s a chance she’s with Rittenhouse and travelled on the Mothership.  Do we really want to risk taking her with us in the Lifeboat?”

Lucy sighed.  “A minute ago you said she was wholesome.  Now you think she’s with Rittenhouse?  Make up your mind, Wyatt.”  She turned to study Felicity.  “Honestly – she really doesn’t strike me as the Rittenhouse type.”  Her tone was dry.

Wyatt rolled his eyes.  “Neither did your mother, remember?”

“Let’s not talk about my mother right now.”

Wyatt opened his mouth, then glanced at Felicity and closed it again.  She was starting to rethink her _tight working relationship_ impression.  Lucy and Wyatt were clearly something more than colleagues – although exactly what, she couldn’t tell.  Frankly, she wasn’t sure it mattered.   There were more important things to worry about at the moment, including:  _What’s Rittenhouse?  Who’s  Rufus?_ And _What are the Mothership and the Lifeboat?_ Most important was the question of whether she’d be jumping from the frying pan to the fire if she left the park and went with them.

Aloud, she said, “Suppose I don’t want to go with you?”

Lucy reached out and touched her arm.  “Look, Felicity, if you really don’t want to be in 1884--”

“I don’t.”

“—then we promise to take you back to the present .  We just need to figure out what’s going on, first.  We can do that faster if you come with us and talk to Rufus.  He’s _our_ scientist.  Does that sound fair?”

She appeared sincere and Felicity’s instincts were telling her she could trust the woman, even if her friend, Wyatt, carried a big gun and didn’t speak too softly.

“You promise to take me home?” She searched Lucy’s eyes.

“Yes, we promise.”

Felicity bit her lip.  _Sometimes_ , she thought, _you just have to trust your gut_.   _There’s no guarantee that Barry’s going to be able to make it back here.  This might be your only chance to get home to Oliver._

“Okay,” she agreed.  “I’ll come with you.”

* * *

 

When it came to finding people, Curtis was right when he’d said that he wasn’t Felicity.  Oliver was certain his wife could have located Connor Mason in half an hour.  She’d have hacked some federal agency’s database, and then used a combination of facial recognition software, security footage, and maybe even an ARGUS spy satellite to find the guy.   Curtis, on the other hand, fussed around for a couple of hours searching news feeds and social media, causing Oliver to frantically pace his office and Quentin and Barry to do their best to keep him from imploding.  Finally, just when Oliver was about the throw his chair (with Curtis in it) out the window, Mr.-Not-So-Terrific sat back from the computer with a satisfied grin.

“I don’t have the exact location,” he announced to Oliver, “but I’m pretty sure Mason’s somewhere just outside Palo Alto.”

That was it – after more than two hours searching?    _Somewhere just outside Palo Alto?_   “I was hoping for an address, Curtis,” Oliver said brusquely.

Curtis closed his eyes and massaged his temples.  “Yeah, well, I can give you the street address of Mason’s home, but I don’t think it’s going to do you any good.  I checked the footage at the company that monitors security on the house, and Mason hasn’t been there for a few months – not since the explosion at Mason Industries.”

Great.

“So what makes you think he hasn’t left the state…or even the country?” Oliver asked.

“Because he’s occasionally been seen in the Palo Alto area with this woman.” Curtis pointed to a photo on the computer monitor.  Oliver walked behind his desk and leaned forward to get a closer look.  The photo showed a middle-aged woman with dark hair and a no-nonsense expression.  She appeared intelligent and tough; kind of like a female version of Quentin Lance. 

“Who is that?” Oliver asked.

“That,” Curtis replied, “is Agent Denise Christopher.  She’s with Homeland Security.”

Homeland Security?  Well, that explained the no-nonsense look.

“Is she his girlfriend?”

Curtis laughed. “Hell, no.   Apparently the rumor of Mason being escorted from that Tech Symposium by federal agents turns out to be true.  Members of the tech community waiting to get into the symposium took cell phone pictures and posted them.  Denise Christopher was the lead agent.”  He began scrolling through a series of photos showing Agent Christopher walking next to an African American man who, Oliver assumed, must be Connor Mason.    Mason did not look happy in any of the photos.   “Since then,” Curtis continued, “the two of them have been spotted together from time to time – most recently last week.”

“So they’ve been seen together.  This helps us how?” Quentin asked.  It was the same question that was on the tip of Oliver’s tongue.

"It helps because Agent Christopher isn’t as much of a recluse as Connor Mason,” Curtis explained. “She has a family and a house with an address – which I happen to have found.   I’m pretty sure she’s been assigned to keep an eye on him.  Dollars to donuts, if you follow her, you’re eventually going to find Mason.”

Oliver didn’t like the word _eventually_.   It felt far too slow given that Felicity was trapped in another century and history could change at any moment.

“Isn’t there something else you can do to find Mason?” he asked Curtis.  “Following Christopher…it could take days.  That’s not fast enough.”

Curtis rubbed his temples again.  “If you let me into your bunker, I can try using Felicity’s programs to search for other signs of Mason.   But it’s still going to take time.”  When Oliver glared at him, he added, “I get it, Oliver.  You’re worried about her.  We all are.”

“You’re damn right I’m worried.  She’s alone in a place where her tech skills can’t help her.  And every minute she’s there, there’s a chance that our entire reality could change.  I could lose my wife, Curtis.”

The office went quiet.  No one argued with his statement or tried to tell him everything was going to be all right.  Barry walked over to Oliver and rested a hand on his shoulder.

“Maybe we should do both,” he said quietly.

“What do you mean?” Oliver asked.

“You and I can follow Agent Christopher while Curtis uses Felicity’s programs to locate Mason.  I can get you to Christopher’s place in a few minutes and we can start shadowing her right away.  Curtis can call us when he finds something else out about Mason.  If it turns out Mason isn’t in the Palo Alto area…well, I can get you to wherever he is pretty fast.” 

The approach felt iffy, but Oliver didn’t have anything better to propose.  And at least he would be doing _something_.  Standing around his office doing nothing was driving him mad.

“Okay,” he said to Barry.  “Let’s go.”

Barry nodded.

“I’ll make your excuses and handle anything that comes up at City Hall,” Quentin offered.

“Thanks, Quentin.”

“And I’ll head to your bunker,” Curtis said, “and start running those programs.”  He got up from the computer and strode rapidly out of the office.

“Ready?” Barry asked Oliver.

“Yup.” Oliver began walking toward Barry.  He’d been carried at Flash-speed once or twice before and never really cared for it.  At the moment, however, he was grateful for Barry’s speed.

“Hang on a minute,” Quentin said.  “Exactly who’s going to go?”

Oliver frowned.  He thought it was pretty obvious.  “Barry and I.”

Quentin nodded. “Yeah, but you who?  You -- Oliver Queen, or you --The Green Arrow?”

Good question.  Oliver wondered who would have more luck getting cooperation from Mason; the worried husband or the scary vigilante with the bow?   He decided it might be best to cover all his bases.

“Let swing by the bunker,” he said Barry.  “We can pick up my suit, just in case.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was originally intended to be part of Chapter 3, but I think it stands on its own well enough. For Arrow fans, it gives you some background on the Timeless crew. For Timeless fans, I hope you don't mind the recap. Since the chapter is told from Felicity's POV, she needed to get up to speed.
> 
> I started writing this story in March and I've made no effort to keep up with events in either Arrow or Timeless as the shows progressed. By the time their seasons ended, both shows had character deaths that I'm not going to include.

Felicity had hoped that Lucy and Wyatt would bring her to their time ship to meet Rufus.   It would confirm their intent to take her home and assure her that she hadn’t been foolish to trust the two of them.  

Not to mention that it would also give her the chance to see some very cool tech.

Unfortunately, they didn’t take her to their ship.  They took her to a small, tired-looking rooming house on the lower east side of the city.   Felicity recalled from a visit to New York’s Tenement Museum during her college days that the lower east side had once been home to immigrants and poorer working folks.  Sure enough, the streets -- already a mixture of mud, soil and horse manure -- grew progressively dirtier and the smell grew stronger as the three of them got farther from Central Park and deeper into the city.   Lucy wrapped a long shawl around Felicity’s shoulders in an effort to hide her modern outfit but Felicity didn’t think it was necessary.  The people they passed looked weary and uninterested -- like they’d worked a long day and didn’t have the energy to be indignant about a woman wearing trousers.  Even the horses hitched to the carts appeared exhausted.

They walked for nearly an hour, giving Felicity’s anxieties a chance to grow.  She tried to distract herself by watching Lucy and Wyatt to figure out the nature of their relationship.  It wasn’t easy.  In some ways, they acted like a married couple.  They finished each other’s sentences and seemed to have a large library of shared experiences.  On the other hand, Wyatt wore a wedding ring and Lucy didn’t; and any time he reached out to touch her (which was fairly frequently), she appeared uncomfortable.  _Maybe_ , thought Felicity, _they’re in the middle of a divorce – one that she wants and_ _he doesn’t.  Or maybe he’s married to someone else but cares for her as well._

Things hadn’t gotten any clearer by the time Lucy and Wyatt ushered her down an alley and into the rooming house.  Felicity gave up trying to understand the connection between the couple and instead began to worry about Rufus.   Lucy had only described him as “our scientist,” which didn’t give Felicity a lot to go on.   Given that he worked with time travel, she figured he must be brilliant.   She pictured a middle-aged, professorial-looking man, kind of like Dr. Harrison Wells in Central City’s S.T.A.R.  labs or even like her father.  She hoped that he used his brilliance for good and not evil.

To her surprise, the man waiting in the shabby bedroom was only a few years older than her and more attractive than any science professor Felicity had ever had.  He was black, with short hair and a thin, neatly-trimmed beard (Felicity tended to notice beards), and he was dressed, like Wyatt, in 1880’s clothing; soft woolen trousers that came up high on his waist and a vest snugly buttoned over his shirt.  He glanced briefly at her face and then honed in on her jeans.

“You caught the sleeper and decided to bring her back _here_?”  He gave Wyatt a bewildered look.

Wyatt shrugged.  “She says she’s not with Rittenhouse.”

“And you believe her?”

Wyatt shrugged again and pointed at Lucy.  “She believes her.  She says this woman – and I quote -- _doesn’t strike her as the Rittenhouse type.”_

The man turned to Lucy.  “Really?  Can I remind you that your mother didn’t strike you as the Rittenhouse type either and we know how that ended?”

Before Lucy could speak, Wyatt held up one hand and said, “I already used that one, Rufus.  Apparently, we’re not allowed to bring up Lucy’s mother right now.”

Lucy gave Wyatt a sharp look but remained silent.

The man – who had now been verified as Rufus – narrowed his eyes.  “Fine.  Then did _she_ ,” he pointed at Felicity, “give you any explanation for _how_ she might have wandered into the nineteenth century?  Because other than Rittenhouse planting her here as a sleeper, I’m having a tough time thinking of one.”

Lucy stepped next to Felicity.  The gesture felt supportive and Felicity gave her a brief smile -- even though she was peeved at once again being discussed as if she weren’t there.  “Felicity says she travelled here by accident,” Lucy explained to Rufus.  “She thinks she was pulled down some kind of wormhole.”

Rufus rolled his eyes.  “Yeah – because wormholes pop up and people get pulled into them every day.”

“Actually,” Wyatt interjected, “she says she was with The Flash and he was running near light speed.  The wormhole – or whatever it was – just appeared and they went down it.”  He didn’t try to hide his skepticism.

Rufus knitted his eyebrows.  He stared at Felicity again, this time with a little more curiosity and a little less hostility.  “The Flash?  She was with The Flash?”

Wyatt frowned.  “She says she was.  Why?  Does that make her story more believable?”

Rufus nodded.  “Yeah, it does -- at least somewhat.”  He said it grudgingly. “There are a couple of ways to time travel.  One is to bend space-time -- that’s essentially what the Lifeboat does.  It creates an artificial gravitational field and warps space-time so that we can jump from one point to another.  The other way is to move near light speed.”  He hesitated and then added, “Although I’m not sure how light speed leads to the wormhole.  I can’t think of anything in physics that ties the two together.”

Felicity perked up at Rufus’s mention of the Lifeboat.  _There’s one of my questions answered_ , she thought.  _The Lifeboat must be their time ship_.  _And evidently it works by bending space-time_.   She turned to Lucy.  “Back when we were in Central Park, you talked about a Mothership travelling to 1884 earlier today.  Is the Mothership like the Lifeboat – is it used for time travel?”

Lucy glanced at Wyatt.  It felt to Felicity like they were having another one of their silent conversations.  After a few seconds, she said, “Yes.  Both the Mothership and the Lifeboat are time ships.”  She didn’t elaborate.

“And do they work the same way?”

This time it was Rufus who answered.  “Yes,” he said.  “The Lifeboat was actually a prototype for the Mothership.”

Felicity nodded slowly.   “Is it possible, then, that the Mothership could have _created_ the wormhole I went into?  By accident, when it was bending space-time?”

Rufus pursed his lips.  Pondering the scientific question seemed to make him forget his suspicion of Felicity.  “I suppose it could happen,” he said.  “If a wormhole is a passage through the cosmic fabric, then maybe bending that fabric could create one.  To be honest, we never tested for that possibility when we were designing the ship.”  He gave Felicity another curious look.  “What’s your name, by the way?”

“Felicity Smoak.”

Rufus’s eyebrows went up.  “Seriously?  You’re Felicity Smoak?  _The_ Felicity Smoak?”

Felicity nodded silently, surprised that he recognized her name.

Rufus shook his head. “For some reason, I always pictured you as being less…blonde.”

“Who’s Felicity Smoak?” Wyatt asked before Felicity could respond to the _blonde_ comment.

“She’s a programmer,” Rufus replied, “like me.  Connor tried several times to get her to come work for him, but she always said no.”

Wyatt turned and examined Felicity as if he hadn’t just spent two hours with her.  “When you say, ‘a programmer like you,’” he said to Rufus, “do you mean _as good as you_?”

Rufus nodded energetically.  “Oh yeah.  When it comes to encryption, maybe even better.  She went to MIT a few years after me.  The school has contests for cybersecurity majors to create encryption algorithms that no one can break.  My algorithms stood until she came along and broke them.  Well,” he amended with a grin, “she broke most of them.  There might have been one or two that she didn’t get.”

Felicity frowned as she tried to remember whose codes she had broken.  She recalled that some of them had been written by a Rufus Somebody-or-Other.  Rufus _Caine?_   Rufus _Charles_?  The lightbulb went off.    “You’re Rufus _Carlin_?”

Rufus continued grinning.  “That’s me.”

“How did you hear about me breaking your algorithms?” she asked.  “You’d already graduated when I was a freshman.”

Rufus’s brown eyes crinkled as he smiled.  “From Connor Mason.  He had his eye on you.  He’s always on the lookout for technical talent – or at least he used to be.  He sponsored me at MIT and when I graduated, I went to work for him.   He talks about you a lot.  You’re the one that got away -- he really wanted your programming skills.”

So _Connor_ was Connor Mason.  Well, that explained it.  A number of companies had aggressively pursued Felicity when she was in college, but Connor Mason stood out for his persistence.  He’d even continued to call her after she’d told him she’d accepted a position at Queen Consolidated.

“Now you know what Connor was developing,” Rufus went on, “and what you would have worked on if you’d come to Mason Industries.  A time machine.  He couldn’t tell you when he was recruiting you, because the project is highly classified.   But that’s what it was -- and you could have been a part of it.”

That certainly would have been exciting, Felicity thought.  The programming she’d done at Queen Consolidated had been more conventional; firewalls and virus detection – nothing nearly as out there as a time machine.  But if she’d gone to Mason Industries and not QC, then she would never have met Oliver -- and he was anything but conventional.  He was The Green Arrow, he was the love of her life, and now he was her husband.   He was worth giving up a time machine.

“I always wondered why you didn’t want to work for Connor,” Rufus said.  “He was offering good money and Mason Industries is in a nice part of California.  It certainly frustrated him that you went to Queen Consolidated.  He thought your skills were being wasted.”

Felicity shrugged.  “I didn’t accept Mr. Mason’s offer partly for the reason you just mentioned.   He wouldn’t tell me what I’d be working on.  He just kept saying it was something that would change the world – which is a pretty big claim to make without specifics.”  She smiled wryly.  “The rest of the reason I didn’t accept is because I thought he was an arrogant ass.  He kept telling me that his was the best scientific mind in the country and that I’d have the good luck to work directly with him.  It got tiring after a while.”  

Rufus laughed.  “Yeah – humility isn’t Connor’s strong suit.  In all fairness, though, he _is_ pretty brilliant.  He came up with the time machine concept, after all.    And he lost a little of his ego when his company was blown up.”

Wyatt coughed but said nothing.

Someone had blown up Mason’s company?  Felicity’s eyes widened.  That didn’t happen every day.  _Well_ , she amended in her thoughts, _except in Star City where there seems to be a big explosion of some sort every year.  I wonder why someone would do that to Connor Mason?  Is it because he was working with time travel?_

It dawned on her that she’d been so focused on getting home that she hadn’t paid much attention to what was happening in front of her in 1884.  Lucy, Wyatt and Rufus clearly hadn’t time travelled by accident (unlike her); nor were they here for the fun of it.  They were on some kind of mission.  She decided she should learn more about that mission.  For all she knew, it might be the key to returning to Oliver.

She started by blurting out, “What’s Rittenhouse?” The word sounded odd coming from her lips, but it really was the logical thing to ask.  They’d mentioned Rittenhouse multiple times -- always with a worried expression – and they’d each assumed she was associated with it when they first met her.  Felicity would have had to have been an idiot not to notice.

For a minute, no one said a word.  Wyatt, Lucy and Rufus looked at each other before turning to regard her thoughtfully.  Finally, Rufus gestured toward the thin cot that served as a single bed.  “Why don’t you have a seat,” he suggested, “and we’ll tell you about it.”

Felicity felt a spark of optimism rise within her at the possibility of getting answers.   She started to move toward the bed but Wyatt put out a hand to stop her.  “Hang on,” he said to Rufus.  “Are you sure this is the right thing to do – to explain everything to her?  When we walked in here, you thought she was _with_ Rittenhouse.”   

Rufus looked wearily back at Wyatt.  “I know I did,” he conceded, “but that was before I learned that she’s Felicity Smoak.  I don’t believe she’s with Rittenhouse.  I think if she was, she would have taken Connor up on his job offer years ago.  After all, Rittenhouse wanted a time machine.  What better way to get access to one than by planting her as an agent on the development team?”

Wyatt gave him a long stare.  “Maybe they recruited her more recently,” he proposed.  “If she’s as good as you say, then they’d still want to have her technical skills.”

Rufus frowned.  “Maybe.  But then wouldn’t Rittenhouse have better prepared her for time travel – at least given her the right clothes and helped her blend in?”  He ran one hand over his short, dark hair.  “Worst-case – say, she’s with Rittenhouse -- then we’re just telling her things she already knows.   We’re not giving away any secrets.  And given that she says she time travelled by accident and you’ve dragged her all around old New York, I kind of feel like we owe her an explanation.  She looks a little disoriented.”  Rufus glanced at Lucy as if asking for her agreement.

Lucy answered him by putting her hand on the small of Felicity’s back and guiding her past Wyatt to the bed.  Then she sat, and patted the space next to her.  “Have a seat,” she said to Felicity.  To Wyatt, she added, “Rufus is right.  If Felicity’s with Rittenhouse – and I don’t think she is – then we won’t be telling her anything new.”

Wyatt stared at Lucy and Rufus.  “Fine,” he said shortly.  It was clear he still had reservations.

“And if we _are_ wrong and she’s a sleeper agent,” Lucy continued dryly, “you can always shoot her later, Wyatt.”

Wyatt appeared to be considering the possibility.  Then he met Felicity’s eyes and gave her a small grin.

She shifted uneasily on the bed.  She wasn’t sure if they were joking, despite Wyatt’s grin.  He certainly struck her as a guy who had shot people before.  In fact, he reminded her a little of Oliver; he looked like a man more comfortable with fighting than talk. 

Lucy smiled at Felicity reassuringly.  “Don’t worry, Felicity -- I really don’t think anyone will be doing any shooting tonight.  And Rufus is right.  We owe you some answers.”

Felicity gave her the barest of smiles in return.  After a long pause, Rufus sat on a plain wooden chair that creaked under his weight.  Wyatt remained standing.  The two men looked at Lucy as if providing explanations was typically her job.

Lucy obliged.   “Rittenhouse,” she began, “for lack of a better word, is a secret organization, founded during the American Revolution.  Its goal was to take control of the newly developing country – but from the shadows, not as a recognized part of the government.   It was created by a man named David Rittenhouse and Benedict Arnold was one of its original members.”  She paused and then added, “We know this for a fact, because Rufus, Wyatt and I travelled to 1780 and met both Arnold and Rittenhouse.”  She shuddered slightly as she said Rittenhouse’s name.

Felicity didn’t question her assertion that they’d travelled to 1780.  They’d already demonstrated their ability to move in time.  She was more interested in the part about Rittenhouse wanting to take control from the shadows.  “But they didn’t succeed, right?” she asked, just to be certain.  “The founding fathers went on to create the Constitution and George Washington was elected the first president.  The U.S. became a real democracy.”

Lucy sighed.  “No, they didn’t succeed, much to their disappointment.  But that only made them more determined to try again -- with greater planning and resources.  Rittenhouse didn’t go away when the U.S. government was formed; the opposite happened.  Its membership grew, and over the decades it recruited some influential scientists and industrialists.  By the early 1900’s, the leaders in Rittenhouse had developed a strategy for using time travel to create a world more,” she paused, searching for a word, “ _receptive_ to their control.  Their plan was -- and still is -- to alter the present in their favor by changing key events in the past.”

“But time travel didn’t exist in the early 1900’s.  They built a strategy around something that wasn’t there?”

Lucy shrugged.  “Their scientists expected it to become possible at some point and one of their leaders, Nicholas Keynes, documented a plan for using it and left the plan for future members to follow.”  She slumped tiredly as she sat.  “And, of course, they were right in the end.  Connor Mason developed the technology for time travel and built a ship.”

“Which,” Wyatt interjected, “Rittenhouse stole and now has.  That’s the Mothership.”

Well, that couldn’t be good.  An organization with a plan to use time travel to control the country now was in possession of a time ship?  “And the Lifeboat?” Felicity asked.

“The Lifeboat is an earlier version of the Mothership,” Rufus explained.  “Connor kept it as a backup in case the Mothership failed and we needed to rescue people who had become stranded in the past.  It’s the ship the three of us use now.”

 _The three of us._   So they definitely were a team; maybe the way she, Oliver and John Diggle were a team.   Things were becoming clearer to Felicity – at least as far as the trio’s mission was concerned.  Just to be sure she was on the right track, she said to the room in general, “So Rittenhouse travels around in the Mothership trying to change events in the past, and you three follow them in the Lifeboat and what? – try to stop them from changing things?”

Rufus nodded.  “Yup – that’s pretty much it.  We have the ability to monitor when the Mothership jumps in time.  We go after them to try to preserve history.”

Wow.  And Felicity thought that she, Oliver and John had an unusual job trying to stop the baddies in Star City.  At least they didn’t have to chase them through multiple centuries to places that lacked electricity and modern sanitization (well, except for deserted islands and Nanda Parbat).  She wondered what Rufus did on these missions to preserve history.  He was a computer scientist, like her, and he was travelling to places with no computers.   It didn’t exactly play to his strengths.  Not to mention that she’d only been in 1884 for a few hours and she was already experiencing withdrawal symptoms without her tablet.  She had to think it would be the same for him. 

“What do you do without computers?” she asked him.

He laughed and she saw that he knew exactly what she meant.  “My job is to pilot the Lifeboat,” he said matter-of-factly.  “She can be pretty tricky to land.  And I take care of minor repairs if she gets damaged.”

That made sense.  With a time ship, the team would always need technical support, no matter what era they travelled to.   Felicity turned to Wyatt.  “And you’re the soldier,” she said, certain she was right about his role.  His ease with weapons, the way he always seemed to be on the lookout for trouble – it just screamed _military_. 

He nodded.  “Army.  Delta Force.”

Felicity raised her eyebrows.  Delta Force wasn’t just Army; it was the elite, special mission unit of the U.S. Army.  It dealt with terrorists and classified reconnaissance and other high-value targets.   Wyatt being here told Felicity that, unlike Team Arrow, this trio wasn’t freelancing.  Their mission to preserve history was sanctioned by some branch of law enforcement – although Felicity couldn’t begin to guess which one.   Definitely something to do with national security, she thought.

She finally turned to Lucy, sitting next to her on the bed.  “And you,” she asked, “what do you do?  You don’t seem like you’re with the army and you’ve already said you’re not a scientist.” 

Lucy gave her a wry smile.  “Furthest thing from either.   I’m a history professor,” she said softly.  “Or, at least I used to be.   Now, I guess I’m just a professional time traveler.”

“Lucy knows what’s _supposed_ to happen,” Wyatt explained, “and she tells us when major events are at risk of being changed.   She’s the key to preserving history.  Without her, we’d be lost.” 

There was a warmth in his voice that Felicity hadn’t heard before.  She was certain now that Wyatt had feelings for Lucy.    _He’s proud of her_ , she thought, _and he means it when he says he’d be lost without her._ And by the way Lucy’s eyes softened when Wyatt spoke, she was pretty certain Lucy had feelings for Wyatt as well.  So what was up with Wyatt’s wedding ring?  And why did Lucy appear uncomfortable any time he touched her?  She thought about herself and Oliver, and how many years it took the two of them to sort out their relationship, despite working together closely.  She wondered if Wyatt and Lucy’s situation was equally as complicated.

Aloud, she asked, “So what is the key event that brought you all to 1884?  What part of history are you trying to preserve?”

The room went quiet and the three time travelers regarded one another cautiously.  Felicity instantly understood.  If she was a sleeper agent with Rittenhouse, then giving her a list of key events in 1884 New York wasn’t a good idea.  It would let her know if they’d already foiled a Rittenhouse attempt to change history and possibly give her new ideas for targets.

Wyatt shifted on his feet.  “Maybe you can tell us,” he said.  “What were you doing with Nikola Tesla in Central Park?  We never did get an explanation.”

Rufus’s eyes lit up.  “You met Tesla?  That must have been a trip.”  Wyatt made a face at him but Rufus merely grinned back.

Felicity nodded.  “Yeah, I met Tesla.  He walked up to me when I was sitting on a bench in Central Park and started talking.  He said it was his first day in America. ”

Wyatt looked at Lucy and raised one eyebrow – no doubt his way of asking her if Tesla’s arrival date was historically accurate.   Felicity wondered if the couple’s talent for wordless communication ever got on Rufus’s nerves.   Then she wondered whether she and Oliver ever got on John Diggle’s nerves; they looked at each other as often as Lucy and Wyatt did, and probably with similar expressions.  She made a mental note to ask John when she got home – assuming she managed to get home.

“Luce?” Wyatt prompted.

Lucy looked at him thoughtfully.  “Tesla arrived in New York on June 6, 1884, so today would be his first day in America.  That’s true.”  She turned to Felicity.  “What else did he say?”

Felicity shrugged.  “Not a lot.  Just that he was from Serbia, had studied electricity, and was starting a job in Thomas Edison’s shop tomorrow.”

Lucy turned back to Wyatt.  “That’s all true, too.  Tesla did go to work for Edison as soon as he arrived in the U.S.  He only lasted six months at Edison’s shop, though.”

Felicity chuckled.  “Yeah, I could have predicted that, and I’m not a historian.  They’re going to have a serious scientific disagreement.  Edison didn’t – _doesn’t_ \-- believe AC can be made to work and Tesla thought – _thinks_ – it’s the _only_ way to deliver electricity.”   She frowned.  “How do you guys decide what tense to speak in when you travel to the past and are in the same time period as the  historical figures?  It’s kind of confusing.”

Rufus laughed. “To start with, we don’t worry about grammar when we time travel.  As long as we understand each other…that’s all that matters.”  His smile faded.  “We know that Edison was with Rittenhouse,” he said more soberly.  “I wonder if that’s why the Mothership came here.  Maybe they tried to talk Edison into doing something to Tesla.”  Wyatt and Lucy both shot him angry looks.  “What?” he continued.  “If Felicity’s with Rittenhouse, she already knows about Edison -- and she would know that we know.  Remember the Chicago World’s Fair, 1893?  We learned all about Edison then.”

“Why would Rittenhouse even care about Tesla?” Wyatt asked.  “I mean, no offense to you guys on the Geek Squad,” he nodded at Felicity and Rufus, “but Tesla isn’t exactly a household name in our century.  Edison’s the guy we remember for electricity and the lightbulb.  _He_ was the big inventor.”

Lucy shook her head.  “The only reason Tesla isn’t remembered as well as Edison is because he became eccentric later in life and alienated his investors and his followers.   When he was younger, he was every bit as well-known and his contributions were just as big.   His belief in AC made electricity possible for people in suburban and rural areas.  It became something everyone could have and afford -- not something only for the wealthy people in cities.”

“So you think Rittenhouse might want to harm Tesla to keep everyone from getting electricity?” Wyatt asked doubtfully. 

Lucy frowned.  “I don’t know – I admit it’s a stretch.  Tesla isn’t the only proponent of AC.  George Westinghouse believes in it, too.   And even Edison will eventually come around in 1892.  He was a businessman as much as he was an inventor – so he went where there was the biggest profit.  When Westinghouse started eating his lunch on the big contracts, Edison stopped trying to make DC work and converted to AC.”

Felicity noted that Lucy had used the past, present and future tenses when talking about Edison.  Apparently grammar really _was_ fluid when you time travelled.

“At any rate,” Lucy continued, “Edison was a very stubborn man.  He believed in trial and error and hard work – not book learning and mathematical models.  Tesla came from a more theoretical background, which Edison despised.    I doubt even Rittenhouse could talk Edison into taking Tesla seriously – at least at this specific date.”

“So why else would Rittenhouse come to 1884 New York?” Wyatt asked.

Lucy held up her hands.  “I honestly don’t know.  The only other big event that comes to mind is Eleanor Roosevelt’s birth – but that doesn’t happen until October.   I met her mother in the park earlier today, and everything seems on track.  There’s nothing we have to do there.”

Felicity recalled seeing Lucy walking with a strawberry blonde woman when she and Barry had first tumbled into old Central Park.  _That must have been Eleanor Roosevelt’s mother_ , she thought _.   How cool is that?_

“What else did you and Tesla talk about?” Rufus asked Felicity.

Felicity shrugged.  “Not much.  Once he introduced himself as Nikola Tesla, I was afraid of saying anything about technologies that hadn’t been invented yet.  I didn’t want to risk impacting the future.  I’m not nearly as good with dates as you are,” she added to Lucy.  “I told Tesla my first name and that I’m from the west coast.  Then I got out of there as fast as I could.”   She didn’t see any point in mentioning that Tesla had wanted to have dinner with her.  It seemed like a silly detail, and after all, she hadn’t accepted.

The three time travelers looked relieved.  Even Wyatt appeared to relax.  Felicity took that as a positive sign.

“So,” she continued, “do you believe now that I’m here by accident and that I haven’t messed with history?  Will you take me home?”

She was expecting them to agree immediately.  It seemed like a no-brainer; the past was safe and she wasn’t with Rittenhouse.  But they didn’t.  There was a long and slightly awkward pause.

“I think,” Lucy said slowly, “that before we take you back, we should check up on Tesla tomorrow morning.  Just to make sure he starts his job with Edison like he’s supposed to and everything’s on track.”

Rufus and Wyatt nodded in agreement.  Felicity’s heart sank.

“I know you’re disappointed,” Lucy went on gently, “but I promise you – I swear – that if everything looks okay in the morning, Rufus will take you home.”

Felicity could feel the sting in her eyes as tears began to form. She wanted to get back to Oliver so badly.  She tried to keep her voice steady.  “I’m just so worried,” she explained.  “I’ve been worried ever since I got here that something would happen to change the present – _my_ present.  And I don’t want it to change.”  She held out her left hand and the gold band on her finger shone in the weak light of the room’s single gas lantern.  “I just got married – after too many years of my husband and I dancing around each other and denying that we belong together.”  She shook her head.  “I can’t lose that – not now.”

She couldn’t miss the way Wyatt and Lucy looked at each other when she said the words, _denying that we belong together_.   It was a gaze that somehow managed to be both earnest and awkward; at least until they lowered their eyes to the floor.

Lucy took Felicity’s hand.  “I understand,” she said quietly, “better than you might think.” 

Felicity expected her to launch into the story of her and Wyatt, but instead Lucy continued, “I lost my sister -- on my very first time trip.  I lost her and I haven’t been able to get her back.”

 _Lost her_ could be interpreted a lot of ways.  “What happened?” Felicity asked.

“We were trying to preserve events around the Hindenburg so we went back to 1937.   We weren’t…entirely…successful.”

“The Hindenburg,” Felicity repeated.  “It was blown up by the anarchist group Black Cross when it was leaving New Jersey to head back to Germany.  Fortunately, only two people were killed.”  She paused and added, “Right?”

Lucy sighed and rested her forehead in her hand.  “That’s what happened,” she said, “but it isn’t what was _supposed_ to happen.  The Hindenburg was supposed to catch fire as it was landing in New Jersey, killing thirty-six people.  Because of our failure,” she gestured at herself, Wyatt and Rufus, “the Hindenburg landed safely and thirty-six people lived who weren’t supposed to live.” 

Felicity frowned.  “Isn’t that a good thing?”

Lucy shook her head.  “Not for keeping history intact.  A female descendent of one of those thirty-six people ended up meeting and marrying the man I believed was my father.  So my _father_ ,” she placed air quotes around the word, “never actually met my mother and my sister was never born.”

Felicity was confused.  “But you were born.  And your mother is still your mother?”

“She is,” Lucy agreed sadly.  “But my father isn’t my father.  Someone else is…and that’s a whole other story.”

Felicity squeezed Lucy’s hand.  She didn’t think she could find the right words to express sympathy for her loss.  (And she was pretty sure Hallmark didn’t make a card that said, _Sorry to hear you wiped your sister out of_ _existence when you failed to preserve history_.)

Then something occurred to her.  “How did you know?” she asked Lucy.  “If your sister was never born in the current timeline, how did you know she once existed?”

“Because I travel with this,” Lucy replied, fingering a gold chain around her neck that held a locket.  “I had evidence of my sister with me when the timeline changed.”  She opened the locket to reveal the two photos that it contained – one on each side.

Felicity bent forward to study them.  The left side of the locket contained a photo of a woman a little younger than Lucy.  Her hair and eyes were a lighter shade of brown, but there was no mistaking the resemblance.   The shape of the face, the nose…it was all similar.   Then Felicity’s gaze shifted to the right side of the locket.  She gasped.

“Something wrong?” Wyatt asked.

Felicity pointed to the second photo.  It was a picture of a middle-aged woman.  “Who is that?” she asked shakily.

Lucy frowned.  “My mother,” she replied.  “I think you’ve heard both Rufus and Wyatt mention her tonight.  I learned a few months ago that she’s with Rittenhouse.”   She gave Wyatt an apologetic look. “I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of the picture,” she explained.  “Not yet.”

Wyatt didn’t reply.  He was still focused on Felicity.  “Why are you surprised by that photo?” he asked her.

Felicity didn’t know where to start.  After a minute she said, “She doesn’t, by any chance, have an evil twin sister?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The more I work on this story, the more I respect folks who write about time travel. I'm doing my best to make things logical, cover bases and plug holes, but I suspect I missed a few things. And for the really detail-oriented Timeless watchers, I admit to changing the pictures in Lucy's locket to include her mother. I couldn't seem to bring this chapter to an end otherwise...it just wanted to go on and on. 
> 
> If you find yourself doing the tourist thing in NYC, I want to give a plug for the Tenement Museum (Felicity mentions it in this chapter). It's not a traditional museum. They researched a number of families who lived in the lower east side tenements going back as early as the 1870s. They take you into actual tenement buildings and tell you the family's story. It's fascinating. I've been there numerous times and never get tired of it.
> 
> Oh...and a second plug: I rewatched the pilot episode of Timeless multiple times when I worked on this chapter. If you're someone who pays attention to music in your television shows, there's a beautiful, spare cover of Pink Floyd's "Wish You Were Here," by Audrey Assad at the end of the episode. It's very haunting.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to bushlaboo for the beta

Oliver didn't think of himself as a particularly lucky guy, at least not in the years since he'd become The Arrow. He'd lost his mother and his best friend; and his sister was currently running around the world with a former member of the League of Assassins. He'd been poisoned or drugged (more than once), shot (far more than once), and stabbed through his gut with a sword before being thrown off the top of a mountain. These things didn't happen to lucky people.

On the other hand, he'd also met Felicity, which did a lot to tip the scales in the other direction. That a smart, capable and determined young woman was willing to join him in his heart and in his fight was nothing short of amazing. And the fact that she'd gone so far as to marry him (eventually) was a little like winning the lottery and the Super Bowl on the same day. It proved he was _capable_ of luck, even if he couldn't rely on it.

So his heart gave a little leap when it appeared their plan to see Agent Christopher might be one of those rare times that luck was with him. Because just as he and Barry arrived at the agent's house in Palo Alto, a car pulled into the driveway and a petite, dark-haired woman emerged from it; no following or waiting required. Oliver recognized her immediately as Denise Christopher from the photos Curtis had shown him. She certainly looked like an agent. She was dressed in charcoal slacks with a black jacket and very sensible shoes, and she was wearing the same no-nonsense expression he had seen in her pictures. Oliver and Barry paused across the street to consider their next move.

As they watched, the front door of the house opened and two children came charging out into the early evening to greet her, before she could take more than a couple of steps. The children, a boy and a girl, bounced around her excitedly and Denise Christopher's serious face became a smiling one, making her look like a different person. She hugged each of the kids in turn and began to walk slowly toward the house, with the youngsters circling her like happy puppies. Oliver felt a brief moment of envy. His own son hadn't come to live with him until William was nearly a teenager, and then it had been under difficult circumstances. Oliver had missed the stage when a simple thing like a parent returning from work was met with unfettered enthusiasm.

Seeing her with her family helped him decide what to do next.

"Can you wait here?" he asked Barry. "I'm going to go talk to her and it'll be less intimidating if she's approached by one stranger rather than two."

Barry glanced at the duffle bag containing The Arrow suit that Oliver had brought. "You're going to approach her as Oliver Queen," he stated, as if clarifying that fact for himself.

Oliver nodded. "I think persuasion will be the best tactic in this situation. She'll certainly see a masked guy with a bow and arrow as a threat, especially if he's approaching her when her children are there. Better just to go as myself."

Barry thought about it. "Makes sense," he agreed. "Good luck, Oliver."

Oliver nodded again. _Good luck, indeed_. _Maybe it will continue to hold_. He crossed the street and walked to the mouth of the driveway, doing his best to make himself look as non-threatening as a well-built man over six feet tall can look. Barry stepped back into the shadows, supporting the illusion that Oliver was alone. "Agent Christopher?" Oliver called out, before she could go inside.

She turned and he saw her instinctively reach under her jacket; a habit cemented, he guessed, by years of working for Homeland Security. She assessed him quickly and didn't pull out a gun, but he had no doubt that she had one holstered at her side or behind her back.

She gestured toward the door. "Go in," she said to the children. "I'll be there in a second." Her voice was calm but firm.

The kids were well behaved. They promptly ran through the door and Oliver could see the vague shape of another woman in the hallway pulling them toward her. Then Agent Christopher turned to him and frowned. "Can I help you?"

It wasn't an offer of assistance. The tone of her voice clearly said, _why are you bothering me_ _at my_ _home_? He didn't blame her. A strange man knew her name and was approaching her in a place reserved for family. It was unusual and uncomfortable, and he didn't think she would give him a lot of time.

He stayed in the driveway, allowing her distance. "Yes," he said quickly. "You _can_ help me. My wife's gone missing and I think you can help me get her back."

That took her by surprise. For a brief second her eyebrows lifted, and then the frown returned. " _Missing Persons_ is a police matter, sir. Have you called the police?"

Oliver gave a minute shake of his head. "I don't think the police can do anything," he said matter-of-factly.

She gave him a hard stare. "Because?"

"Because I'm pretty sure my wife's gone missing in 1884."

Her eyes widened. It was a risk, he realized, blurting it out like that. After all, being spotted with Connor Mason didn't mean Agent Christopher was aware of everything the scientist had ever worked on. If she didn't know about Mason's time machine, she could quickly decide that Oliver was a nut. For that matter, _Oliver_ didn't know for certain that Mason had a time machine either; it was all just speculation from the geek community.

Still, he thought he saw a flicker of recognition cross her face.

"Your wife's gone missing in 1884," she repeated flatly.

"Yes."

She kept one hand poised near the opening of her jacket, within easy reach of her gun. "What's your name?"

He didn't hesitate. "Oliver Queen. My wife's name is Felicity Smoak. We live up north, in Star City."

She continued to stare and he could almost see her thinking; _Oliver Queen_ \- _where have I heard that name before?_ Then she nodded. "You're the man who was rescued after being shipwrecked on a deserted island for five years."

"Yes."

She pursed her lips. "That must have been one hell of a horrible experience – not something you get over easily. Are you on any kind of medication?"

So, she was going to go the route of questioning his sanity. He wasn't surprised; it was an easy way to get rid of him. If he hadn't seen that flicker of recognition earlier, he might have concluded that she knew nothing about Mason's time machine. But he _had_ seen it and he was pretty sure she could help. He decided he wasn't going anywhere.

He held up one hand. "Please don't act as if I'm crazy. I'm not on drugs, I'm perfectly rational, and I don't have a lot of time. I came to you because I'm trying to find Connor Mason and you're one of the few people who have been seen with him recently. If you tell me where he is, I'll be on my way and out of your hair."

"Connor Mason of Mason Industries? Why would you want to find him?" She wasn't conceding a thing.

He grimaced impatiently. "Fine. I'll spell it out, even though I'm pretty damn sure you know what I'm talking about. There's a strong rumor in the tech community that Mason has a highly classified program to develop a ship for time travel. I'd like to find out if that's true. If it is, then I want him to take me to 1884 so I can get my wife back. I promise you," he added, "that I'm not going to hurt him."

She gave him a carefully-crafted, blank look and said nothing. He clenched his teeth.

"Look," he continued. "Suppose it was _your_ family – one of _your_ children. Wouldn't you try anything to get them back? My wife is everything to me. I just want to ask Mason if he can help. If he can't, then I'm gone."

Her expression softened a little. "What makes you think your wife is in 1884? Why not 1880 or 1901?"

He hesitated. Knowing the precise year of his wife's whereabouts was harder to explain than hearing rumors of Mason's time machine. With Barry speeding him down from Star City, he hadn't had time to prepare an answer for that one. "I heard it from The Flash," he finally said, careful not to glance across the street where Barry was half-hidden in the shadows. It seemed his best bet. It was true, for starters. And the entire country knew of The Flash and the unearthly things the guy could do. If anyone would know with precision when a woman had gotten lost it time, it would be a man with superpowers.

"The Flash?" Agent Christopher's voice was cautious. "Why would The Flash have anything to do with your wife?"

Oliver took a deep breath, but before he could launch into another explanation there was a rush of air and Barry was standing next to him – fully suited up as The Flash.

Agent Christopher's jaw dropped.

Oliver breathed out. _God bless Barry Allen_. By speeding onto the driveway, Barry was giving Oliver the credibility he'd been lacking up to this point and would, hopefully, save him from the need for another sketchy explanation.

Oliver crossed his arms and looked expectantly at the agent.

She stared at Barry. "You are _The_ Flash," she stated, as if there were a dozen other people who claimed to be the speedster.

Barry nodded. "I am."

"And you two know each other." She gestured between Oliver and Barry.

Barry nodded again. "We do. And what Mr. Queen tells you is true. One of the side effects of being able to move as fast as I do is that I sometimes travel in time. And I'm quite certain that his wife is in New York City - 1884."

"Because you've seen her there?"

"Yes."

Agent Christopher frowned. "Then why don't you just go back to 1884 and bring her home yourself?"

Oliver had to give the agent credit. She'd been confronted by a strange man in her yard, a story of time travel, and now The Flash; and she was still thinking on her feet.

Barry met Oliver's eyes briefly before turning back to Agent Christopher. "I tried – several times," he said sadly, "and I can't reproduce the events that got me to 1884. We need something that can travel to a precise time and location. We need a time machine."

Denise Christopher gave him a long stare. There was a moment of silence, interrupted only by the hum of insects, during which she seemed to be considering all that she had heard. Finally, she nodded.

"Okay," she said, "I'll take you to Mason. But beyond that, I can't make any promises."

Oliver nodded. "At least it's a start."

And maybe his luck would continue to hold.

* * *

Felicity could feel Wyatt's eyes boring into her and was beginning to be sorry she'd said anything about the photo. It had finally seemed like they were getting along and now she'd gone and upset the time travelers again. It was just that the resemblance was so uncanny she hadn't been able to help herself.

"You know that woman?" Wyatt demanded, pointing at Lucy's locket.

Lucy, seated next to her on the bed, reached out and rested her hand lightly on Felicity's wrist.

Felicity pursed her lips. "I'm not sure I know that _specific_ woman," she replied carefully, "but I know someone who looks an awful lot like her."

"Who?" Lucy asked, in a gentler tone than Wyatt.

"My mother-in-law," Felicity replied. Then she amended, "Well, she isn't _actually_ my mother-in-law because she's dead and I married her son _after_ she died." She frowned thoughtfully. "In fact, she was gone before Oliver and I even started dating; which is probably a good thing because she never liked me very much and she'd be angry to find out that we became a couple, and furious when we eventually got married." She paused to inhale. "But if she _were_ still alive, then she'd be my mother-in-law."

Wyatt gave a small shake of his head and raised one eyebrow at Rufus. "I thought you said she was some kind of brilliant scientist," he said, pointing at Felicity.

Rufus smiled. "She is."

"Well she seems to be easily confused by the concept of a mother-in-law."

Felicity forgot to be worried and glowered at Wyatt, just as Lucy gave Wyatt an annoyed look of her own. The soldier shrugged unapologetically.

"What was your mother-in-law's name?" Lucy asked Felicity.

"Moira Queen. Well, Moira _Dearden_ , before she was married."

"And she looked like this." Lucy tapped the photo in the locket with her index finger.

Felicity nodded. "Almost exactly. The hair might be a shade lighter and there might be a mole missing, but it's pretty damn close. Close enough to be sisters, if not twins."

The three time travelers looked at one another. " _Did_ your mother have a sister, by any chance?" Wyatt asked Lucy. "Any aunts you didn't tell us about?"

Lucy raised her hands helplessly. "Not that I'm aware of. But then we know there are a lot of things my mother didn't tell me." She turned to Felicity. "My mother's name is Preston – Carol Preston. Did… _Moira_ ," she stumbled over the name, "ever mention the _Prestons_ – as friends or as family?"

Felicity shook her head, and then followed the gesture with a helpless shrug of her own. "No. But I'm not someone Moira would have confided in. To her, I was a worker-bee at her son's company. The only time she noticed me was when she thought I was influencing him against her."

"What about your husband?" Rufus asked her. "Did he ever mention cousins or other relatives named _Preston_?"

Felicity shook her head again. "No. The only relative Oliver ever talks about, besides his mother and father, is his sister. And I've _met_ her."

The room was silent for a few beats. Suddenly, Wyatt took a step closer to Felicity. "Hang on," he said. "You mentioned your mother-in-law's married name is _Queen_?"

"Yes."

"So, that means your husband is _Oliver Queen_ – the guy who went missing for five years when his yacht sank?"

Felicity nodded and wasn't surprised when Lucy and Rufus didn't ask Wyatt what he meant. She'd learned long ago that Oliver's miraculous rescue had been national news, not confined to Star City.

"Is that important?" Rufus interjected.

"It might be. Think about it," Wyatt said impatiently. "A guy drops off the face of the earth for five years and then suddenly reappears? It's got _time travel_ written all over it."

Felicity shook her head gently. "I may not be an expert on everything that happened to my husband before he met me, but he's told me enough about those five years for me to be certain he wasn't time traveling. He spent most of them stuck on an island." She elected to omit the word _deserted_ since she knew Lian Yu had been anything but.

Wyatt frowned at her. "You're sure?" he asked.

"I'm sure."

"Damn. I thought we'd found a clue." The soldier rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Do you think there could be some kind of alternate timeline where Lucy's mom _had_ a sister?" he asked the room in general. "That might explain it."

Rufus scratched the back of his neck as he considered the suggestion. He shook his head. "It's doubtful. If it _is_ an alternate timeline, then it would be the same as the situation with Lucy's sister, where no one knows of her existence. It takes extraordinary circumstances – like time travel with a physical reminder – for a person to be aware of an alternate timeline. A simpler and better explanation would be that Moira and Carol are sisters who were separated when they were very young. Each grew up not knowing the other exists. Or it could just be one, big coincidence. They say everyone has a twin somewhere."

Wyatt frowned. "Maybe. But I'm not big on coincidences and I'd like to figure it out. It seems odd for Felicity to travel back in time, meet up with us, and then know someone who's a doppelganger for Lucy's mom."

A thought struck Felicity.

"You know," she suggested helpfully, "the best way to get to the bottom of this would probably be to talk to my husband. He's got all the history on his mother. I know very little about her. You could take me to him right now and we could see what he has to say."

Wyatt looked at her and smiled. "Nice try," he said, "and no way. We're going to check on Tesla in the morning, just as we planned. _Then_ we'll take you to your husband and see what he has to say."

Felicity sighed. "It was worth a shot."

* * *

When Oliver saw where Connor Mason was staying, he couldn't help but feel some kinship with the man. Because Mason resided in a bunker; a concrete, half-underground bunker that dated back to the 1950's and looked as if it was built to withstand a heavy bombing. It reminded Oliver of the abandoned steel foundry he'd used as a hideout when he'd first become The Arrow. Mason's bunker had thick grey walls with no windows, and it felt dark, weighty and a little dirty.

The place would have been nearly impossible to find if Agent Christopher hadn't taken them there. There wasn't a road leading to the bunker; just two dirt tire tracks that meandered discouragingly through a couple of fields before dead-ending in front of a concrete slab. It was so far off the main drag that Oliver figured even high school kids would be dissuaded from using it as a place to sneak off and party. The remote location made him think there was a decent chance that the rumors about Mason's highly classified time travel project could be true.

Normally, he would have found that encouraging; now, however, he could only think that getting to the middle of nowhere had eaten up precious time. Agent Christopher had rejected Barry and Oliver's suggestion that The Flash speed them to Mason's hideout, saying that she wasn't a kid anymore and had a family to think of. Instead, the three of them had piled into her car (Barry still as The Flash) and she had driven back into the night. It had taken close to an hour for her to get them to the bunker: An hour during which history had the chance to erase Oliver's wife from existence; an hour where he stared desperately at the photo of Felicity on his phone, willing her face to remain on the screen and in his memory.

Mason was waiting alone in the entryway to the bunker when they arrived. Agent Christopher had called him from the car to let them know they were coming. She'd been short on details, either because she didn't trust the security of the phone or because she honestly didn't know how to explain the situation. She'd simply told Mason that there were two men who needed his help with a scientific problem and that she believed they could be trusted to maintain secrecy.

Mason's eyes grew large when he saw that one of those men was The Flash. He gave Agent Christopher a questioning look.

In response, she nodded back at him. "Connor, I'm sure you recognize The Flash. He gave me a demonstration of his speed back at my place, so his identity is confirmed. And this," she gestured at Oliver, "is Oliver Queen."

Mason reluctantly turned his gaze from Barry to Oliver and frowned. "Oliver Queen?" he repeated. "Of Queen Consolidated?"

Oliver shrugged. "It feels like a long time since I was CEO there, but yes."

Mason's frown turned into a scowl. "I thought you said these men could be trusted," he said to Agent Christopher. "I have no problem with The Flash. But Oliver Queen," he scoffed, pointing at Oliver, "is a party boy who is so uneducated he nearly ran his family's tech company into the ground. Fortunately, it was rescued by Ray Palmer – a _real_ inventor." He waved one hand dismissively. "I can't imagine how Queen could have a scientific problem. The man can't even spell _science_."

It had been a while since Oliver had been dismissed out of hand and he was surprised to find that it stung a little. Even with repeated accusations that he was The Green Arrow (or maybe _because_ of them), the people in the Star City's mayor's office addressed him with a certain level of respect. No one brought up his youthful, tabloid-grabbing indiscretions anymore and he'd become accustomed to being taken seriously. He found himself irritated with Mason, although not irritated enough to waste time defending himself.

He recalled what Curtis had told him about Mason wanting to hire Felicity. "It's true I'm not a scientist," he said mildly, "but I'm married to one and she's the person who really needs your help. I think you might know her – Felicity Smoak?"

That caught Mason off guard. He widened his eyes once again. " _You're_ married to Felicity Smoak?" he stammered. "Felicity Smoak, who graduated with honors from MIT? She didn't just go and work for Queen Consolidated; she actually _married_ you?"

Oliver nodded. "Yes," he said simply. "And right now she's in a lot of danger."

Mason gave a disgusted snort, but listened as Oliver repeated his story. As quickly as he could, Oliver told of Felicity's unintended trip to 1884 and The Flash's unsuccessful efforts to bring her back.

When Oliver finished, Agent Christopher added, "For what it's worth, Connor, I believe him. I make my living figuring out when people are lying, and I think he's telling the truth. Plus, The Flash corroborates his account."

Mason gave her a doubtful look but didn't disagree. It was clear that whatever he might think of Oliver, he had respect for the agent. He turned to Barry. "Why don't _you_ tell me what happened," he suggested. "After all, you were there for most of it."

Barry didn't hesitate. "Sure," he replied. "Maybe you can make more sense of events than I can. I was carrying Felicity," he began, "from Central City to Star City. I was running fast, but slower than light speed. A tunnel appeared out of nowhere and it felt like we were being driven down it." He went on to recite the circumstances that led up to Felicity remaining in old New York as well as his efforts to bring her back.

Mason listened to Barry's report from start to finish and then requested that Barry repeat specific parts of it again, asking very detailed questions. He wanted to know precisely when the tunnel appeared and what it looked like, as well as how long Barry felt they were in it. The questions were not idle curiosity. It was clear Mason was trying to figure out _how_ Felicity had been transported to the past.

Watching Mason, Oliver was reminded a little of his stepfather, Walter Steele. Like Walter, Mason was intelligent and deliberate, and he spoke with a highly educated British accent that gave him an air of authority. With the initial shock over, he was acting as though meeting The Flash was something that happened every day – no gawking or stumbling over words as he questioned him. Oliver hoped Mason's interest meant that he would be willing to help.

"Do you _bend_ space-time when you run," Mason asked Barry, "or is it simply the effect of you moving so quickly that allows you to travel in time?"

Barry frowned. "It's complicated," he replied. "There's this thing called the Speed Force that I can access which allows me to time travel." He caught a glimpse of Oliver's anxious face and cut his explanation short. "The bottom line," he said tersely, "is that it all comes down to speed. I need to run _faster_ than the speed of light in order to move back in time and I wasn't running that fast with Felicity. It makes me think I _couldn't_ have caused a wormhole – if that's what the tunnel even was."

Mason nodded and fell silent. He appeared to be analyzing the information Barry had given him, and for a moment, the other three people just watched him.

Then Agent Christopher cleared her throat. "Do you think we can help Mr. Queen can get his wife back from 1884, Connor? Even if we don't know what caused her to travel in time, is there any reason we can't send the Lifeboat there to bring her home?"

 _The Lifeboat_. So there really was a time machine, which meant there was hope for getting Felicity back. Oliver's heart beat a little faster.

Mason turned from Barry and met Agent Christopher's eyes. "We might," he said slowly, "if it were here."

Denise Christopher's eyebrows went up. "You mean, it's _not_? Exactly where is it?"

Mason gazed at her warily. "New York. June 6, 1884."

There was a stunned silence. Something in Oliver snapped. " _What?_ " he nearly shouted at Mason. "You knew all along that your time ship was in 1884, the same year as Felicity, and you made Ba- _The Flash_ and I take the time to describe what happened to her - _twice?_ " In his anger, he had almost said, _Barry_.

Mason shook his head. "There's no evidence that the two events are related." When Oliver took a step closer to him, he raised one hand defensively and added, "I understand it sounds strange, your wife and the Lifeboat going to the same year. I think it's strange too, that's why I was asking The Flash all those questions – to figure out if there's some physical explanation for it. But I can't think of one."

Oliver ground his teeth. "I'm with Agent Christopher. What does it matter if we know the physical reason for Felicity being in 1884? Just get the damn Lifeboat back here and then let's go for her!"

Another silence, as Mason and Agent Christopher looked at one another uneasily. This time, it was Agent Christopher who shook her head. "Unfortunately, Oliver, it's not that simple," she said sadly. "To begin with, we have no way to contact the Lifeboat when it's more than a hundred years in the past. And second, when they do come back, we can't send them to a place and time where they've already been."

"Why the hell not?" Oliver spat out. His heart was pounding, but from fury now instead of hope. To get this close and then be denied the means to get Felicity back was unbearable.

"You can't risk meeting yourself," Mason explained carefully. "It would create an anomaly in space-time. I'm sure _you_ understand that," he added to Barry.

Barry stared at Mason and then nodded. "I do," he said slowly, "but, on the other hand, there's no reason you couldn't send the ship back to the same place just a few hours later." When Oliver turned to him he continued, "Say the Lifeboat leaves June 6, 1884 at midnight, Oliver. I don't see why it couldn't go back to June 7, 1884 at three am – or even one am, for that matter. There's no risk of the crew meeting itself then."

Mason frowned at Barry but didn't disagree. Oliver felt his fury lessen – very slightly. He glanced at Felicity's picture, thankfully still on his phone, and tried to transmit his intentions through time. _Just hang on a little longer, Felicity. I'm coming._

"Why _did_ you send the Lifeboat to 1884?" Agent Christopher asked Mason. "It's not like any of you to take on a new mission without me here; or at the very least, letting me know about it." She sounded disapproving.

Mason looked at her apologetically. "Shortly after you left today, Jiya thought she saw the Mothership go to New York City, 1884."

 _Who's Jiya?_ Oliver thought.

Agent Christopher raised one eyebrow. "She _thought_ she saw it go to 1884?"

Mason nodded. "Yes. So the gang got into the Lifeboat and went after them. I would have phoned you, but Jiya saw the Mothership return to present day within a matter of minutes. It happened so fast she's not certain it ever really _landed_ in 1884."

"And the Lifeboat?" Agent Christopher asked.

Mason's brow furrowed. "The Lifeboat hasn't come back."

He no longer sounded completely self-assured. He sounded worried.

Agent Christopher stared at him. "Does Jiya know why?"

Mason sighed. "Why don't we go back and you can ask her yourself?"

* * *

The bunker's similarities to the foundry didn't end with concrete walls and a dank atmosphere. As Mason led them out of the entry and deeper into the facility, Oliver discovered the place also housed a computing area that looked a lot like Felicity's original setup. There were several of rows of servers and monitors sitting on old, grey military desks; ultra-modern IT equipment atop World War II era furniture. Unlike the foundry, the desks faced a large, cylindrically-shaped room, at least three stories high. _That must be where the Lifeboat is usually stored,_ Oliver thought. He wondered how big the time machine was and how they got it in there. The hallway that led from the entrance was ordinary size, barely large enough to accommodate a golf cart.

The computing area contained keyboards and monitors sufficient for a half a dozen people to work, although there was, at the moment, only one person seated there. She looked to be about Felicity's age and equally as comfortable as Felicity in the cyber world. She was staring at a screen where lines of indecipherable code continually scrolled, narrowing her eyes and typing in rapid bursts. There, however, the similarities ended. Where Felicity was blonde-haired and blue-eyed, this girl had dark brown eyes and long, thick hair that appeared almost black. Her brow was furrowed in concentration and she didn't look up as they approached.

"Connor," she said, her eyes fixed on the screen, "it looks like the Mothership set a course for 1884 but reversed direction before it ever truly landed. The gravitational signature it created is weird – not like anything I've ever seen before."

Mason cleared his throat. "We have company, Jiya," he said carefully.

She looked up then, a slight flush on her cheeks. Her eyes honed in almost immediately on Barry and her jaw dropped. "The Flash? _Really?_ Or is this some kind of a joke – just someone wearing a Flash suit?"

Agent Christopher smiled. "He's the real deal, Jiya – The Flash himself. And this is his friend, Oliver Queen."

Unlike Mason, the name _Queen_ didn't mean much to Jiya. She barely spared Oliver a glance and directed all her attention toward Barry. "I can't believe it's really you," she bubbled. "Why are you here? Can you stay for a while? Rufus will want to meet you – he'll be jealous if I have the chance to talk to you and he doesn't." As she mentioned the name _Rufus_ , the smile suddenly disappeared from her face.

"Who's Rufus?" Oliver asked.

It was Mason who answered. "He's a scientist. He works for Mason Industries and he pilots the Lifeboat. He's with it now in 1884 New York, and we've been…waiting…for his return." He gave Jiya a compassionate look. Oliver had the feeling that, for Jiya, Rufus was more than just a colleague.

"You can't fly The Lifeboat remotely?" Oliver wasn't sure if _fly_ was the correct verb to use with a time ship, but it seemed to work.

Mason shook his head. "No. It's a tricky machine; you need to be in it, and even then, very few people can fly it. It takes a lot of training."

 _Great_ , Oliver thought. _Not only is the time machine AWOL, but apparently it's not exactly push-button. I need the machine AND Rufus if I'm going to get Felicity home._

He stepped closer to Jiya so that she couldn't help but meet his eyes. "When do you expect the…um…Lifeboat to return?"

Jiya opened her mouth but then paused. She gave Mason and Agent Christopher a questioning look.

Agent Christopher waved one hand. "It's okay, Jiya. Mr. Queen and The Flash have a time travel problem they're hoping we can help them with. We've already told them a little about the Lifeboat. You can answer his question."

Jiya nodded and her brow creased. "To be honest," she said anxiously to Oliver, addressing him directly for the first time, "I expected them back here as soon as the Mothership returned. I don't know what's keeping them. Unless," she added, turning to Mason, "that anomaly the Mothership created in the gravitational field is somehow blocking the Lifeboat's return trip?"

Mason rested one hand on her shoulder. "I don't know, Jiya. Maybe. Maybe Rufus detected the anomaly and he's giving it time to settle down before he attempts to come back." He turned to Barry. "Why don't you tell Jiya about what happened with you and Felicity Smoak? Whatever we end up doing, Jiya's going to be a part of it so she should have all the facts."

Oliver clenched his jaw; both at the noncommittal phrase, _whatever we end up doing_ , as well as the fact that they were wasting time going over the story once more. He glanced nervously at his phone and breathed a little easier to see Felicity's photo still there.

"Felicity Smoak?" Jiya asked Mason. "The girl you wanted to hire from MIT?"

Mason nodded. "Yes. She seems to have managed to take a trip through time without the benefit of a time machine."

"Wow. How'd that happen?"

Mason gestured toward Barry, and Barry repeated the story of himself, Felicity and the tunnel for what felt to Oliver like the hundredth time. Like Mason, Jiya listened carefully and asked a number of detailed, scientific questions. Then she turned to Mason.

"Do you think the tunnel The Flash was forced down could somehow have been _created_ by the Mothership? I told you I saw a gravitational anomaly."

Mason stared at her. "Maybe," he said slowly. "Normally when the ships travel, they bend space-time just long enough to pass from one time period to another. The passage they create doesn't last. In this case, it sounds as though the Mothership created a wormhole that didn't vanish right away."

"Why do you think it affected Felicity but not me?" Barry asked. "She got pulled away from me and back to 1884, while _I_ was able to keep moving to the present. Shouldn't it have grabbed both of us?"

Mason raised his hands helplessly. "I don't know." He peered at Barry as if the explanation might be written on The Flash's body. "I'm guessing your molecular structure is different from the average human?" When Barry nodded, Mason continued, "That _could_ have something to do with it – the difference in molecular vibration frequency." He dropped his hands. "Oh bloody hell, I'm just guessing at this point."

"What does it matter?" Oliver asked sharply. When Mason and Jiya turned to him with surprised expressions, he continued, "I understand it's important to figure out at some point _how_ this happened, but our priority right now should be getting Felicity back before things have a chance to change – and getting _your_ people back, too, it sounds like. If you're worried that the Lifeboat hasn't returned, shouldn't we be organizing a rescue?"

Mason shook his head. "I'm not ready to say I'm worried. There are a number of rational explanations for why the Lifeboat didn't return immediately after the Mothership."

Jiya bit her lip, evidently not in full agreement with Mason. "Connor-" she began.

Mason cut her off by holding up one hand. "I know you're concerned for Rufus," he said gently, "but what do you suggest we do? They're in 1884 Jiya, _with the Lifeboat_. We have no way to get to them."

"What about the Mothership?" Oliver asked. "Jiya said she saw it come back to the present. Could we use that?"

"The Mothership is not an option," Agent Christopher interjected quickly.

"Because?"

"Because the people who have it are not exactly our friends. They're not going to give it to us."

Oliver held out his hands in pleading gesture. "So we steal it. Normally I wouldn't suggest it, but this is an emergency."

The agent shook her head gently. "That's a really bad idea – at least, it is right now."

Oliver glared at her in exasperation. "Why? When you say they're _not exactly our friends_ , do you mean you avoid each other at dinner parties or is it something more serious than that?"

"I mean they guard the Mothership continuously and they'll shoot us if we get anywhere near it," Agent Christopher stated. When Oliver didn't immediately reply, she continued, "The world doesn't know it, but there's a war over history going on, Mr. Queen. And we," she made a gesture that included herself, Mason and Jiya, "and the folks who have the Mothership are _not_ on the same side."

" _A war over history_ ," Oliver repeated. "And _they're_ the only ones with the guns?"

Agent Christopher grimaced. "No. But at the moment, our best soldier is in 1884, along with the Lifeboat. Without him, we don't stand a chance."

Oliver thought about the duffle bag he had brought containing his suit, his bow, and an assortment of arrows. It was sitting in the trunk of Agent Christopher's car.

"I believe our odds are better than you think," he replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A number of folks have commented on Connor Mason's dismissive tone with Oliver. Here's what I was thinking when I wrote their meeting:  
> Because he's a tech genius and was the head of his own company, I figured Mason's first knowledge of Oliver would be through the tech industry. Mason would have heard of Queen Consolidated and known what had happened to the company -- that Oliver ran it for a year or so and didn't do very well. Mason has lost some of his arrogance over time, but I still think he holds onto a little of it.
> 
> I decided none of them would know about Oliver being mayor because, really, how many mayors do you know the names of outside your own city? And Star City is a small/medium city; it's not NYC or LA.
> 
> And I figured that The Flash would have more national (and international, I suppose) recognition because he has superpowers. As amazing as Oliver is as The Green Arrow, he's a human without powers and his activities have mainly been confined to Star City or unheard of places like Lian Yu and Nanda Parbat.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to bushlaboo for beta-ing, especially when she's got a lot on her plate.

Agent Christopher stared at the duffle bag on the floor and then back at Oliver with a bewildered expression.

"It's a bow and arrow," she said.

He nodded. "Yes."

They were standing in the computer area of Mason's bunker, with Mason, Jiya and Barry seated a few yards away. Oliver had retrieved his bag from Agent Christopher's car and unzipped it to reveal his bow and quiver of arrows. With all the upgrades Felicity and Cisco had performed over the years, he thought the equipment looked pretty high tech.

Agent Christopher, apparently, thought differently.

"A bow and arrow," she repeated. From her tone of voice, the bag may as well have contained a spatula, or a dozen kittens, or something equally as ineffective and irrelevant.

"You understand," the agent continued, as if speaking to a ten-year-old, "that the people in possession of the Mothership have guns; modern guns - capable of firing dozens of rounds in a few seconds."

"I figured as much."

She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers. "Are you _sure_ you're not on some kind of medication, Oliver?"

He laughed – the first time he'd done so since he'd learned ten hours ago that Felicity was trapped in 1884. He'd become so accustomed to the constant veil of suspicion hanging over him in Star City that it felt strange, and a little refreshing, to find someone whose thoughts didn't immediately leap from _Oliver Queen_ to his other identity.

"Maybe this will help," he said.

He reached into the duffle bag and pulled out his green leather jacket, spreading the hood on the floor and arranging his mask on top of it. Then he straightened and looked expectantly at Agent Christopher.

And there was absolutely no recognition in her eyes. She gazed at the jacket with the same expression she'd used for the bow and arrows.

"I'm sorry," she said. "Is that supposed to mean something?"

It was Barry who answered. "He's telling you that he's The Green Arrow," he said quietly.

Jiya straightened in her seat and stared at Oliver. Then she turned to the keyboard in front of her and started typing.

Agent Christopher's brow furrowed. "The vigilante in Star City?"

Oliver nodded once more. "Yes. I'm a little surprised you don't know about it. The FBI has been investigating me for months on the suspicion that I'm The Green Arrow. I figured at this point, that it was common knowledge."

Agent Christopher waved one hand in a dismissive gesture. "I'm Homeland Security," she replied. "Homeland Security and the FBI don't really talk to each other."

"ARGUS has known about me for years."

She laughed. "Yeah, well _no one_ talks to ARGUS." Then she gave Oliver a long, assessing look. "Seriously? You really are The Green Arrow?"

He shrugged, and then in one, swift movement, picked up the bow, nocked an arrow, and spun and fired. They all stared at the mouse pinned to the base of the wall, thirty feet away. "Yup."

Jiya smiled. "Wow," she said softly. "The Green Arrow _and_ The Flash on the same day."

Mason didn't look nearly as happy. "Oh bloody hell," he said. "There are _mice_ in the bunker?"

Jiya pointed to the computer monitor in front of her. "Just to give everyone further confirmation, I'm looking at the Star City Gazette and there are a whole bunch of recent articles about the FBI investigating Mr. Queen. And there's some older news, too, about the SCPD arresting him a few years ago on suspicion of being a vigilante." She paused and then leaned closer to the monitor. "It also says that he's the mayor of Star City." She sounded more surprised by that fact than she'd been about The Green Arrow. Suddenly, she giggled. "Apparently the gossip blogs refers to him as Mayor Handsome."

Agent Christopher smiled. "Well, you certainly lead an interesting life, Oliver. If I'm to believe everything I've heard, you're an arrow-shooting vigilante who was missing and presumed dead for five years, as well as the mayor of your hometown, with a wife currently trapped in 1884. Did I leave anything out?"

Oliver shrugged. "I think you've hit the high points."

Agent Christopher's smile disappeared. "Fine," she said to Oliver. "So assuming that you _are_ The Green Arrow-"

"I am."

"—then even with _your_ skills, however good they may be, you're still going up against some highly trained and heavily armed people."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that," Barry interjected from his seat. "Oliver's had plenty of training himself. I've seen him in action lots times – you'd be surprised what he can do with basic archery equipment. Besides," he added, "he won't be alone. I'll be there with him." When Oliver shot him a grateful look he smiled apologetically. "I got Felicity into this, Oliver, I'm going to help get her out."

Oliver frowned. "The more I learn about it, the less it sounds like you have any responsibility for Felicity's time trip. It seems more like it was some kind of weird fluke."

He turned back to Agent Christopher. "So," he said, "we've established that The Green Arrow _and_ The Flash are on the team. Are you a little more optimistic now about our chances for getting ahold of the Mothership?"

Agent Christopher gazed at him thoughtfully. "You know," she said slowly, "I actually am. They certainly won't be expecting The Green Arrow and The Flash. We might be able to pull this off." She looked across the room at Mason. "Think about it, Connor. Not only does Oliver have a chance to get his wife back, but we have an opportunity to get the Mothership out of the hands of Rittenhouse."

 _Rittenhouse?_ The name rang a vague, ancient bell for Oliver, but he had no idea why, and he honestly didn't care. If Agent Christopher saw a win for herself in stealing the Mothership, then it meant that she'd be more likely to help him with his plan.

Mason cleared his throat. "Before you get too excited, Denise, there are a couple of risks we should talk about."

Agent Christopher looked at him and waited.

"First," Mason continued, "we have to _find_ the Mothership. Rittenhouse has moved its base of operations since you had Wyatt infiltrate it. We don't know where they're headquartered anymore."

"Actually," Jiya broke in, "I think I've got the Mothership narrowed down to three possible locations, all within a five mile radius of each other. It shouldn't be too hard to find."

Mason gave Jiya a sideways glance and didn't acknowledge her point. "And second," he said tersely to Agent Christopher, "we need to think carefully before we put The Flash in close proximity to the Mothership."

Agent Christopher looked at Barry and her brow furrowed. "I'm not sure I follow you, Connor. I would think The Flash would be an outstanding weapon in this situation because they won't see him coming. Why wouldn't we want to have him there?"

Mason sighed. "Because fifteen minutes ago we were speculating that The Flash running at the same time as the Mothership created an anomaly in space-time – an anomaly that lasted long enough to drag Felicity Smoak into the past." He looked at Barry. "You said you were running from Central to Star City?" When Barry nodded, he continued, "Well, the Mothership was hundreds of miles away." His brow furrowed. "If there really is some kind of interaction between The Flash's speed and the Mothership's gravitational field, imagine what could happen if the two of them are within _feet_ of each other. Instead of lasting minutes, the anomaly might become a permanent tear in space-time. Maybe instead of a wormhole, we end up with a _black_ hole."

Oliver frowned. "That's all just speculation."

Mason narrowed his eyes. "It is. But do you really wish to take the chance?"

Oliver dropped his gaze from Mason's face to the floor. He wanted to shout that he didn't care what he had to do to get Felicity back; that he would happily break apart the earth if that's what it took. But the truth was that he _did_ care if he ended up harming hundreds of innocent people in the process. He knew Felicity wouldn't want to be back under those circumstances.

"What if I don't use my speed?" Barry asked. "What if I just move like a regular human?"

Mason shrugged. "Maybe that will help. Your molecular structure is still different, though."

"But if the Mothership is shut down?" Oliver suggested. "Is it a problem then? I mean, if the ship is just sitting there, then it can't be bending space-time. There shouldn't be anything to interact with." When Mason looked up at him sharply, Oliver gave him a self-deprecating smile and added, "I _was_ listening to you and Jiya earlier, Mr. Mason. I may not be a tech genius, but I can sometimes put two and two together."

Mason nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, I can see that – and I suppose you have a point. If the ship isn't in operation, then it's probably acceptable for The Flash to be near it. You understand, though," he continued more severely, "that if you are able to recover the Mothership, The Flash should, under no circumstances, travel with you on it. It's just too risky."

Oliver exhaled. "Yes, I understand. Once we get the ship, I'm on my own."

"Oliver-" Barry began.

Oliver cut him off with a wave of his hand. "It makes sense," he said to Barry. "You know it does. If Mr. Mason is right, there are a lot of people who could be hurt if you and the Mothership interact."

Barry met his eyes and nodded reluctantly.

"Why don't you tell us more about what we're up against," Oliver said, turning to Agent Christopher. "How many people will be guarding the ship? Is there anyone we need to be particularly aware of?"

She put her fingers to her temples and rubbed tiredly. Oliver realized that it was late – nearly midnight. Like him, Agent Christopher, Connor Mason and Jiya had most likely put in a long day and could use some sleep. Nevertheless, no one had complained or suggested they take a break. He was grateful for that.

"I wish I _could_ tell you more," the agent said wearily. "The people who have the Mothership are members of an organization named Rittenhouse. They're well organized and well resourced. I think you can assume there will be at least ten of them – all armed."

"What do they want?" Barry asked.

It was Mason who answered. "They want to control the country – _run_ the country."

Oliver resisted the urge to roll his eyes. What was it about bad guys wanting to take over, he wondered. It seemed like every villain he had ever fought was trying to make Star City his own. Why couldn't people just live and let live?

"Why?" he said to Mason. "Is it about money?"

Mason grimaced. "No. It's about Rittenhouse building their vision of the perfect society; a society where the elites make the decisions and tell everyone else how to live."

Oliver thought back to six years earlier, when Malcolm Merlyn had partially destroyed The Glades section of Star City because he'd wanted to rebuild the city into his idea of a better place. This thing with Rittenhouse sounded similar – except on a much larger scale. With a pang, Oliver recalled that his mother had abetted Merlyn in his plan; at least, until she'd had a crisis of conscience over the thousands of people who would die. Then she'd tried to prevent it.

He did his best to push her out of his mind. It wasn't the time to reflect on family sins; and anyway, she'd eventually paid for her transgressions and then some. "Okay," he said to the room in general. "So there are at least ten armed people guarding the Mothership, all members of Rittenhouse." He walked over to Jiya. "You said you'd narrowed the Mothership down to three locations. Any chance you can bring up photos or schematics for those locations?"

She nodded. "No problem." Then she started typing.

He stood behind her as he'd often stood behind Felicity, and watched her fingers fly across the keyboard. It felt familiar, and in a weird way, comforting. He had gone from being helpless to doing what he knew best; planning a mission.

"The sites are all on the outskirts of San Jose," Jiya said, "which means they're less than an hour from here." She pointed at her monitor. "This is the first one."

Oliver leaned forward and studied the photo. It was a large warehouse; bigger than a football field and several stories high. The building didn't have a lot of doors, but there were plenty of skylights; it would be difficult for someone to guard them all.

Barry got out of his chair and stood next to Oliver. "It's a lot of space for ten people to watch," he remarked, voicing Oliver's thoughts aloud. "I'm guessing the guards won't pair up in order to cover more ground. It'll make it easier to take them out if they're by themselves."

Oliver nodded.

Agent Christopher cleared her throat. "There's something I should probably make clear," she said quietly.

Oliver and Barry turned to her.

"Should you find it necessary, lethal force is…acceptable…to use against Rittenhouse."

No one said anything for several seconds.

"You're telling us that it's okay if we have to kill someone in order to get the Mothership," Oliver stated, wanting to be certain he had understood her correctly.

"Yes."

"Denise-" Mason began.

She held up one hand. "Connor – we know that _Rittenhouse_ won't hesitate to kill. They've already tried to eliminate our team on several occasions. I thought these men should know that, and know there will be no repercussions if they have to take a life. I don't want them fighting with one hand tied behind their backs."

Mason studied her face and then shrugged. "Fair enough." After a pause, he said to Oliver and Barry, "There's one person, though, that you'll want to take alive."

"Who's that?" Oliver asked.

"Emma Whitmore. She's the pilot for the Mothership. And you won't get far without a pilot."

Barry frowned. "You can't fly it yourself?"

Mason shook his head. "No. I invented it, but I've never once flown it. I told you before – it's tricky. It takes a lot of training and practice."

"I can fly it," Jiya said quickly. "I've piloted the Lifeboat."

Mason gave her a look that managed to combine annoyance and affection. "A couple of times, Jiya, and you've struggled with the landings. They need Emma."

"I can fly it," she repeated stubbornly.

Oliver sensed an argument brewing. "Why don't you show us the photos for the other two locations," he suggested to Jiya. "Then we can figure out who's going to go on the mission."

She nodded and began typing again, but the resolute expression didn't leave her face.

* * *

After everything she'd been through, Felicity figured she should be able to sleep. It felt like days, not hours, since she'd left her home in Star City to work at the loft. She'd been sucked down a wormhole, met Nikola Tesla, interrogated by a group of time travelers, and walked miles in 1884 New York City. It was an exhausting agenda for anyone.

And yet, sleep eluded her, despite the fact that it was nearly midnight.

After Wyatt had firmly reiterated that they were going to check on Tesla in the morning, he had suggested they all get some rest. Rufus had promptly agreed and gone to the room next door to sleep. Lucy had generously offered Felicity the bed and then done her best to get comfortable in a very uncomfortable-looking chair. And Wyatt had remained standing guard.

Felicity lay on the bed and watched with envy as Lucy managed to drift off. Then she turned her gaze to Wyatt.

"You may as well get some sleep, too," she said to him. "You look as tired as I feel. There's no need to stand guard. I promise you, I'm not going anywhere."

He met her eyes but said nothing.

She sighed. "Do you really still think that I'm with Rittenhouse? I mean, look at me; I've got no weapons, no hand-to-hand combat skills, and the wrong clothes. I'm not exactly agent material. I just want to go home."

"Then why aren't you going to sleep now?"

"Believe me, if I could, I would. I can't get my heartrate to return to normal. You may be used to time travel, but it's been a…weird…experience for me." She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. "I keep thinking that my husband is probably frantic by now. He can make some pretty impulsive decisions when he's worried about the people he loves."

As if he couldn't help himself, Wyatt smiled. "So you're worried about your husband being worried."

"I am."

He seemed to find that amusing. He gave a small shake of his head and the smile remained on his face. Felicity glanced at the gold band on Wyatt's finger and wondered once again what the story was with him and Lucy. Suddenly, she decided, _why not ask?_ Apparently neither she nor Wyatt was going to get any sleep. The worst he could do was tell her it was none of her business.

"What about _your_ wife?" she asked Wyatt guilelessly. "Does she worry about you when you take these time trips? Does she even know what you do?"

Wyatt's smile faded. He cast a cautious glance at Lucy and appeared satisfied that she was asleep.

"Yeah," he admitted after a moment, "Jessica knows what I do and she worries about me. But before this, I used to go on missions with the army, so she's kind of used to it. She handles it pretty well."

 _Jessica_. So Lucy wasn't Wyatt's wife and they weren't in the midst of a separation or divorce. Wyatt was married to someone else, and very evidently, had feelings for his co-worker. It was an office romance, Felicity thought, with a weird, time-travelling twist.

Wyatt was studying her face. "You're wondering about me and Lucy," he said.

"It's kinda hard to miss."

He sighed. "I know. When I started working with Lucy I was single…or at least I thought I was."

"You _thought_ you were? Isn't that something you should know?"

He smiled wryly. "It's another story that includes an alternate timeline. You know how Lucy told you she lost her sister when the Hindenburg didn't blow up the way it was supposed to? Well, I got my wife _back_ when Rittenhouse travelled in time and got rid of her murderer – or, at least, we think that's what happened. I went on a time trip knowing I was a widower and came back to find my wife very much alive."

Felicity sat up on the bed and ran her fingers through her hair. "Wow."

"Yeah – you can say that again." He exhaled tiredly and lowered himself to sit on the floor, leaning his back against the wall. For a moment he gazed at his hands as they rested on his lap. "I was a wreck when Jess was killed and I mourned her for years," he eventually said. "It wasn't until I met Lucy that I finally started to believe I could care about someone else. And now Jess is back." He shook his head and gave a weak laugh. "What the hell am I supposed to do with that?"

Felicity looked at him sympathetically. "How…close…did you and Lucy get before your wife came back?"

"As close as two consenting adults can get."

"Oh."

They were silent for a few moments. Felicity thought about the twisted road her relationship with Oliver had taken before the two of them finally worked things out. She decided they didn't have anything on Lucy and Wyatt.

"I'm sorry," she finally said, because she couldn't think of anything better to say.

Wyatt shook his head gently. "If there's anyone who deserves your sympathy, it's Lucy. As hard as this has been for me, it's been ten times worse for her. We all live in the same facility back home and she has to see me with Jess every day. And she's been nothing but understanding about it."

Felicity remembered when Oliver had started dating Sara Lance and she had been forced to watch the two of them exchange warm glances and the occasional kiss as they trained together in the foundry. She had a pretty good idea of what Lucy was going through now. "Yeah, I'll bet it sucks for her," she agreed.

"It does," Wyatt said softly.

They were silent again. Wyatt leaned his head against the wall and stared at the ceiling.

"You said you think I'm used to time travel?" he said suddenly. "Well, I'm not. I don't think you ever get used to it. I've been doing this for two years now and I never know how things are going to turn out when I return home. It can be awful or amazing – and sometimes both at the same time."

Felicity lay back down. "So you must understand then," she replied quietly, "why I want to get home so badly. I want to get back to my husband before something has a chance to change."

"If it hasn't already."

" _What?_ " She sat back up quickly.

He regarded her steadily. "You've heard of the _butterfly effect_?" When Felicity nodded, he continued, "Well, it's the perfect description for what happens when you mess with history. Sometimes the change to the past can be really small or subtle. _You_ don't know it when it happens, but when you return to the present you find out that it had a big impact." He shook his head. "I didn't realize anything had happened with Jessica until I got home and there were texts from her on my phone."

She stared at him in fear. She tried to recall every detail of what she had done since she'd arrived in 1884, looking for tiny events that could serve as the flap of a butterfly's wings.

Wyatt gave a bitter laugh. "Do you know that Rittenhouse once went to the 1930's and tried to kill a blues singer named Robert Johnson? They did it because his music was a major influence on rock groups like the Beatles and the Rolling Stones. Rittenhouse figured that without Johnson, there would be no rock music; and without rock, there would be no counter-culture revolution in the sixties – no protests, no civil rights marches." He clenched one fist. "Essentially," he went on, "they believed they could eradicate an entire societal movement by getting rid of one man; and not a political leader – just a musician."

Felicity's heart was hammering now. The elimination of one man's life could alter an entire decade of history? She tried to calm down by reminding herself that she had seen and spoken with almost no one; only Lucy, Wyatt, Rufus…and Nikola Tesla.

Wyatt was watching her closely. "I'm sorry," he said abruptly. "I've scared you. You should know that things don't change every time we travel. We've taken plenty of trips where we come home to find that everything is exactly the same." When she looked at him hopefully, he added. "I'm pretty sure that will be the case with you. After all, you haven't met many people – and neither have we. It's beginning to look as though following the Mothership here was a wild goose chase."

She nodded and prayed that he was right.

* * *

To her surprise, Felicity was eventually able to catch a couple of hours of sleep. Sometime in the early hours of the morning she dropped off into troubled dreams of returning to a Star City where Moira Queen was alive and mayor, and Oliver had been dead for years. She woke to feel her back damp with sweat, and to see Wyatt still sitting on the floor, gazing at Lucy. She doubted he had slept at all.

Within the space of fifteen minutes, Lucy awoke and Rufus came in from his room. Felicity watched the three time travelers greet each other like family and begin their morning routine.

"How do you want to handle things today?" Lucy asked casually, as she stood in front of a small mirror on the wall and arranged her hair.

Standing behind her, Wyatt looked at his reflection and assessed his unshaven state. "It's early yet," he replied, "just after six. Why don't we see if we can find something for breakfast and then Felicity and Rufus can head to the Lifeboat. You and I can stop by Edison's plant as soon as it opens and make sure Tesla shows up for work." He paused and then added with a hopeful grin, "I assume you know where Edison's plant is, Luce?"

She smiled. "Pearl Street – Lower Manhattan. It's not far from here."

"Great."

Felicity slid off the bed and evaluated her own appearance in the mirror. Her jeans and soft jersey top looked fine, but her mascara was smudged and her hair was a little wild. She dearly wanted to wash her face and brush her teeth. "I take it there's no indoor plumbing in 1884?" she asked the room in general.

"There is," Lucy replied, "but not in the lower east side of New York City. This section belongs to the working class. There are outdoor toilets at street level and we have to carry a bucket of water up to our rooms to wash."

Felicity sighed. "Oh, isn't that just lovely." After a pause, she added more seriously, "Hey - what the hell do you guys do for coffee?"

Rufus laughed. "We do the best we can. Usually we can manage to scrounge some up." He paused and frowned. "Although we once went the Salem witch trials in 1692 when coffee wasn't big in America yet. That kinda sucked."

"You mean the Salem witch _revolt_ ," Felicity corrected gently. When Rufus merely stared at her she rolled her eyes. "Oh hell, it's like the Hindenburg, isn't it? It got changed, too."

Rufus nodded.

Lucy stopped fussing with her hair and turned to Felicity. "One of the less glamorous aspects of time travel," she said matter-of-factly, "is that we rarely have the right currency for the time periods that we go to. So we have to beg, borrow or steal necessities like food and clothing. I don't like the stealing, and we try to minimize the impact to the citizens of the time, but we really don't have a choice." She smiled at her colleagues and added, "It's a good incentive for us to finish our missions quickly and get home to the era of credit cards and Starbucks as soon as we can."

"Speaking of which," Wyatt said, "we should probably get _this_ show on the road."

* * *

An hour and a half later, Felicity was in Central Park, walking through a densely forested section of the area with Rufus. Breakfast had consisted of a hunk of bread and a piece of cheese, both filched from shops in the lower east side of the city. Sadly, coffee had been a no-go.

"We're almost there," Rufus said. "I think we left the Lifeboat somewhere behind those trees." He pointed at a cluster of maples twenty yards away.

Felicity couldn't help but be excited. She was going to see a bona fide time machine and – if all went well – travel home on it. She strode ahead of Rufus, and then began jogging toward the trees. He followed at a more sedate pace.

When she reached the trees, she stopped abruptly.

She wasn't sure precisely what she had been expecting, but whatever her image of a time ship was, the Lifeboat was something else entirely. She had anticipated a sleek, streamlined machine; like a supersonic jet, maybe, or a submarine. The Lifeboat appeared as weighty as a tank and not at all aerodynamic. The center was a grey metal sphere, large enough to hold several people, and it was surrounded by two huge, mesh gears. It looked like a supersized cross between a watch and a pressure cooker.

"This is the Lifeboat?" she said weakly, when Rufus caught up to her.

He got a glimpse of her expression and laughed. "Yes, this is the Lifeboat. Don't judge her so harshly. She's been pretty reliable so far."

She tried to return his smile. "I just expected something more…high tech. It looks kind of tired."

"She _is_ high tech. And you'd look tired too if you had to lug three people throughout history."

Felicity couldn't disagree with that statement. "Can I see inside?" she asked.

In response, he reached up and pressed something unseen on the sphere, and a circular door swung inward. Rufus scrambled up the smooth metal side of the sphere using the gears as steps, and crawled in through the door. Then he turned and looked at Felicity expectantly.

She imitated what he had just done – shimmying awkwardly up the sphere by grabbing onto the gears. When she was close enough, she grasped the hand he extended and allowed him to pull her into the Lifeboat.

"Oh," she said as she looked around the interior. "This is more like it."

The inside of the Lifeboat was a testament to the difficulties of controlling a precise trajectory through time. There were enough dials, lights and switches on the control panel to make NASA proud; and Felicity suspected the computer onboard surpassed anything she had ever touched. She watched Rufus turn it on.

"Are we getting ready to take off?"

He shook his head. "Not yet. I just wanted to look at some data from yesterday and see if I can figure out anything new about the Mothership. There was a pretty weird shift in the gravitational field – something I don't think I've ever seen before. I'm starting to think the Mothership never really landed."

"Can you bump it up against previous gravitational signatures for comparison?"

He sat down in what must be the pilot's seat and started typing. "This is 1884, Felicity, and there's no internet, so I have no way to access information back home for comparison. I only have the data we store on the ship."

She nodded. "Oh, right."

He pointed to a small metal box that was bolted to the floor. "There are a few modern conveniences that we keep in that box, if you need something. We've got stuff like aspirin, allergy meds and some basic first aid supplies. I think there might be toothpaste."

 _Toothpaste?_ Felicity almost dove at the box. Sure enough, there was a half-used tube of Crest. She squeezed a little onto her finger and worked it around her teeth. It didn't have the same effect as her Ultra-Sonic 3000 electric brush at home, but it certainly felt better.

She watched Rufus type. "Do you miss the modern stuff when you travel?"

He shrugged. "Sometimes. Sometimes it's worth the inconvenience when you have the chance to see history being made. Sometimes, it's just damn scary."

Felicity laughed. "Are you married?

"No, but I have a girlfriend."

"Does she know what you do?"

Rufus smiled. "She's part of the team, so she knows exactly what I do."

Felicity nodded. "That's great." After a moment, she added, "Wyatt told me about his wife." She wasn't entirely sure why she said that, other than she thought it might eliminate the need for Rufus to tap dance around the subject in the future.

Rufus turned to her with a surprised expression. "Really? Wyatt isn't usually a sharing kind of guy. He must like you."

Before Felicity could reply, there was the sound of voices. She looked out the door of the Lifeboat and saw Wyatt and Lucy approaching. They were talking animatedly, with Wyatt making chopping hand gestures and Lucy nodding in response.

They did not appear happy.

Rufus joined Felicity at the door to the Lifeboat. "How'd it go?" he called out. "Is Tesla working for Thomas Edison?"

Wyatt looked up as he and Lucy walked the final yards to the foot of the Lifeboat. "No," he said shortly. "Apparently Tesla decided he wants to go out west, where women study the sciences and alternating current is accepted as the future of electricity. He told his supervisor about it this morning, right before he gave his notice." He glowered at Felicity. "I can't imagine where he got that idea, can you?"

She closed her eyes. "Oh, frack."

"I know it may not seem like a huge deal," Lucy said more gently, "but if Tesla doesn't stay in New York then he probably doesn't meet Westinghouse. And if he doesn't meet Westinghouse, who knows when people outside of major cities will get electricity? It could have all kinds of ripple effects. Electricity freed up women from spending all day on household chores; it allowed people to study and work at night…" Her voice dwindled.

Felicity held up one hand. "Yes, I know. Wyatt told me about Rittenhouse trying to eliminate the cultural revolution of the 1960's by getting rid of a blues musician. I get that one small change can have a big impact." She exhaled heavily. "So, what do we do, then?"

Lucy shrugged. "We have to find Tesla and get him to change his mind."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the positive feedback on this story. It's been really fun to write so far, so I'm glad to hear that people are enjoying it. And I appreciate it when people who don't watch all the shows in a crossover are still willing to give the story a chance.
> 
> And a question for "Timeless" fans as I work on the next chapter. Can anyone tell me the max capacity of the Mothership? I know the Lifeboat can carry 4 people max (it used to be 3, but they made some mods to it), but I can't for the life of me remember if it's the same for the Mothership.
> 
> And, finally, what is it about teams of 3 that makes me like them so much? "Arrow" has Oliver, Felicity and Diggle (although Dig is sadly absent from this story -- I think it's the first "Arrow" story I've written without him). "Timeless" has Lucy, Wyatt and Rufus. "Daredevil" has Karen, Foggy and Matt. It just seems to really work.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank to bushlaboo for the beta. She's got a great take on both the Arrow and the Timeless characters, and how they will react in specific situations.

The other buildings Jiya identified as possible locations for the Mothership looked at lot like the first one she had shown them. Oliver and Barry leaned over her shoulder and studied photos of two additional warehouses as Agent Christopher and Connor Mason watched from their seats a few feet away. All three warehouses were large and appeared deserted. There were no vehicles nearby and no signs of goods being moved in or out. Oliver guessed that the huge storage facilities had been abandoned when the tech jobs of Silicon Valley replaced agriculture and manufacturing as the predominant source of employment in the area. He wasn't sure if the isolation was going to make commandeering the Mothership easier or harder. On the one hand, he wouldn't have to worry about well-meaning bystanders getting caught in the crossfire. On the other - he'd found that bad guys were more likely to shoot _at_ him when they didn't have witnesses.

After a few minutes of looking at the photos, Barry straightened and turned to Oliver. "Any idea which one we should go to first?" he asked.

Oliver shook his head. "I don't see anything that makes one location more probable than the others. Let's start with the closest one and work our way from there."

"Sounds good."

"Right." Oliver turned to retrieve his duffle bag. Barry was already in his Flash uniform; it was time The Green Arrow suited up as well.

"Hang on," Agent Christopher said. She sounded concerned.

Oliver stopped and gave her a puzzled look. She had seemed on board with taking the Mothership a few minutes ago and he wondered if something had changed. "Is there a problem?" he asked.

She met his gaze and her brow creased. "I'd like to know if there's some kind of plan here, or if the two of you are just going to storm each location and eliminate people until you find the Mothership."

Oliver glanced at Barry and saw that he, too, appeared confused by Agent Christopher. "We'll do our best to be stealthy and avoid hurting people," Oliver replied, "but if it comes down to it, then – yes – we'll fight our way to the Mothership." When she continued to stare at him he added, "Did I miss something earlier? I thought you said that lethal force is acceptable."

She sighed and nodded reluctantly. "I did." Then she shrugged. "I guess I thought there would be more… _strategy_ involved. This feels like you're flying by the seat of your pants."

Oliver did his best to appear patient. It wasn't easy; the clock was ticking and Felicity had been trapped in the past for more than twelve hours now. "Normally, both The Flash and I have teams to back us up," he said tersely. "Unfortunately, a key member of _my_ team is in 1884 and _his_ team is in Central City. We've been doing this a while, though, and have plenty of experience with similar missions. We'll be okay flying by the seat of our pants – trust me." When she didn't reply, he added, "Do you have any suggestions?"

She frowned. "No…not really. Only that Jiya should show you a photo of Emma Whitmore so you can recognize her. You don't want to kill the pilot."

Oliver nodded but Jiya shook her head. "It doesn't matter if Emma gets hurt. I'm going with Oliver and The Flash - and _I_ can fly the Mothership."

"Jiya-" Mason began.

"I'm _going_ ," Jiya repeated, her jaw jutting out. "This isn't just about Oliver's wife, Connor. It's about Rufus…and the rest of the team. They should be back by now and they aren't. Maybe there's a problem with the Lifeboat. Maybe Rufus is hurt and can't pilot it. No matter what happens with Emma, Oliver's going to need someone with time travel experience who is on his side. We can't send him to 1884 alone with that…that _bitch_."

Mason stared at her. "No," he said slowly, "we can't. So maybe we wake up Flynn and get him to go. Flynn's got plenty of time travel experience."

 _Flynn?_ Oliver thought. _There's someone else here?_

Before he could ask, Agent Christopher cleared her throat. "I'd rather not do that, Connor."

Mason turned to her. "Why not, Denise?"

"Because I'd prefer that Flynn didn't know that Homeland Security is teaming with The Flash and The Green Arrow. They're a more powerful weapon if we keep them a secret. Who knows – we may need their help some day _against_ Flynn."

Mason sighed. "Denise-"

"I mean it, Connor. We've been working with Flynn for a few months now, but you know we haven't been one hundred percent sure we can trust him. I don't want to use this mission as a chance to find out where his loyalties truly lie – not when we have a chance of recovering the Mothership."

Mason shrugged. "I don't think it's entirely up to you." He turned to Oliver. "What do _you_ think? Flynn's a tough, experienced agent. Wouldn't you want him on this mission?"

Oliver looked at the worried expression on Agent Christopher's face. "Not if Agent Christopher isn't certain she can rely on him. She strikes me as a pretty savvy operative. I'm going to trust her instincts on this one."

Agent Christopher gave him a grim nod.

"And as for Jiya," Oliver continued, "I think it's _her_ decision whether she stays or comes on the mission. The only thing I _will_ say is that if she chooses the mission, The Flash and I will do our best to keep her safe." He rested his hand briefly on Jiya's shoulder, then walked over to his duffle bag and began pulling out the suit.

"It's decided then," Jiya said crisply. "I'm going."

Mason gave her a disappointed look but seemed to realize there was no point arguing further.

Oliver nodded to the room in general. "All right, then. I'm going to suit up and then we're going to get the Mothership back."

* * *

To Oliver's extreme frustration, they were forced to use the car again rather than have Barry carry them. Jiya had no objection to moving at Flash-speed, but Mason insisted that the risk of creating another space-time anomaly was too great if the Mothership was operating when Barry raced into the warehouse. So Oliver gritted his teeth and climbed behind the wheel of Agent Christopher's very un-sporty sedan, his leather suit making squeaking sounds as it stuck to the vinyl seat. Had Felicity seen him, she probably would have gotten a chuckle at The Green Arrow buckled into a mom-mobile instead of straddling his Ducati. He imagined her smile and hoped he would have the chance to tell her about it soon. Jiya sat next to him and pulled the seatbelt across her chest, while Barry slid into the backseat.

As soon as Barry shut the door, Oliver stomped his foot on the gas pedal and willfully ignored the groans of the car's suspension as they proceeded to hit every rut in the dirt track leading from the bunker to the main road. At two in the morning, it was too dark to see the terrain; and even if he could see the ruts, he wouldn't have taken the seconds needed to avoid them. He'd been lucky so far, he thought, in that whatever was happening in 1884 hadn't yet changed his life with Felicity. Her photo on his phone remained as it had always been – her eyes meeting his through her glasses, with a smile on her face. It was reassuring, but it didn't lessen his sense of urgency. He knew well enough that luck could change at any moment.

When they reached the paved road, he pushed the accelerator down further. Now it wasn't just the car's suspension making noises; the engine was whining too, protesting every time he forced it to speed out of a turn. Next to him, Jiya clutched the seatbelt tightly with one hand but never once suggested that he slow down.

"Your wife," she said at one point, her voice tight. "You said she's part of your team?"

"Yes."

"Do you mind if I ask how she deals with all of this?" She gestured at his Arrow suit and then at the bow and quiver that lay at her feet. "I mean, how does she keep from going crazy with worry, knowing you could get hurt at any time?"

Oliver didn't answer the question. Instead he asked her, "Is that what happens with you? Do you go crazy with worry over Rufus?"

"Yeah. Pretty much every time he goes on a mission."

Oliver wasn't surprised. Whenever she spoke, her first thought was always for Rufus. He wrestled the car around a tight bend in the road, the tires squealing as he did so. "I don't know how she manages to deal with it," he said truthfully. "She just does. We've been doing this for six years now, so maybe she's gotten used to it." The car came out of the turn and the tires stopped squealing. "And anyway," he added, pushing hard on the gas pedal again, "it's a two-way street. Sometimes _she's_ the one in the dangerous situation and I have to worry about _her_."

"And have _you_ gotten used to it?" Jiya asked.

"No. And I don't think I ever will."

He heard Barry give quiet snort in the back seat.

"If you're looking for advice," he continued to Jiya, "then I'll tell you that my biggest regret is taking a long time to tell Felicity that I love her – too long. It feels funny saying this to someone who works with a time machine, but my advice to you is not to waste time. If care about Rufus, let him know."

"I do," she said quietly.

"Then, you're good. The rest will work itself out."

* * *

It took them over an hour to get to the first warehouse and a short exploration of the property showed that it was truly deserted. The second warehouse, however, looked more promising. Low light was visible through several of the windows and Oliver could sense some kind of activity when he placed his head near the wall. He switched the communication link in his ear to _on_.

"Oliver?" Agent Christopher's voice was there instantly, accompanied by light static. The comms she'd provided were older than the tech Felicity gave the team back home and he had a feeling they were pushing the devices' limits for range.

"We're at the warehouse near the old peach farm. There's definitely someone here," he said quietly. "We'll need to look around a little more to be sure."

"Okay. You'll…" the agent hesitated. "You'll make sure nothing happens to Jiya?"

"We will."

"Good." A little of the tension left Agent Christopher's voice. "Please keep me in the loop."

"Roger that."

As he finished speaking, Oliver heard the light footsteps of the girl in question as she and Barry came up to him. They'd been waiting in the car, listening in on the comms.

Jiya didn't acknowledge Agent Christopher's request. "What now?" she asked.

"There are plenty of skylights," he replied, gesturing at the building. "So now we get up on the roof and do a quick recon. It's probably best if we can find the Mothership first. That way we'll know if it's okay for The Flash to speed." He reached into his quiver, pulled out a grappling hook arrow and fired it over the roof. Then he tugged gently on the cable until he was certain the hook had caught securely.

Jiya eyed the thin line leading to the roof. "Am I supposed to be able to climb that?"

He smiled. "No." Then he pointed to a small box strapped to his belt. "This is a kind of electronic pulley. It will do all the work." He held out an arm. "You just need to hang onto me."

She stepped next to him and tentatively placed one arm around his lower back, then reached up with her other hand to clutch his shoulder. "Like this?"

He lowered his arm to her waist. "Perfect."

"Have you ever done this with Felicity?" She sounded nervous.

He nodded. "All the time. She loves it."

Jiya narrowed her eyes. "I bet _that's_ a lie."

He chuckled in spite of his tension. He was really starting to like this girl. "When we find her, you can ask her yourself."

"What about _me_?" Barry queried. "I can't climb the building the way I normally would. That would mean using my abilities. You know, Mothership, possible wormhole, blah, blah, blah…"

"You're bloody right you can't use your abilities." Mason's voice came through decisively on the comms. "Heavens knows what could happen this time."

 _Oh crap_. Oliver hadn't thought far enough ahead to realize he would have _two_ people needing help to get on the roof. He really wanted Barry with him. Even without his speed, the guy was a smart, experienced operative. But Oliver also didn't want to leave Jiya alone outside the warehouse. He'd just promised Agent Christopher that they would take care of her.

He looked at Barry and sighed. "Fine. Jiya gets my right side and you get my left." He stuck out the arm that was not clutching Jiya and gestured for Barry to grab hold.

Barry didn't move. Instead, he frowned and pointed to the electronic box on Oliver's belt. "Are you sure that thing can handle all three of us? It's kinda small. How powerful is the battery?"

Oliver shrugged. "I've carried Diggle up with it. He's a pretty big guy."

Barry appeared doubtful. "I think Jiya and I together weigh a lot more than Dig."

He had a point, Oliver thought. Diggle was just shy of two hundred pounds. Logic said that Barry and Jiya together had to be at least two-eighty or two-ninety.

"We can probably figure it out." Mason's voice chimed in on the comms. "Jiya – can you look at the motor? We can calculate the power to weight ratio and then- "

"No!" Oliver interrupted sharply. This was getting out of hand. "No physics calculations – we don't have time for them. We're just going to do this and hope it all works out."

"I knew it. Flying by the seat of your pants." This time it was Agent Christopher's voice on the comms.

"Well," Barry muttered, "I hope we will be _flying_ and not _plummeting_." He shook his head, but then stepped next to Oliver and grabbed hold of his torso.

"What about you?" Jiya asked Oliver. "Can _you_ carry both of us? It's a lot of weight to have two people hanging onto you."

"Piece of cake." In truth, Oliver had no idea. But it would only be for a minute and he figured he could do anything if it was in pursuit of Felicity.

Before anyone could raise another objection, he clamped the cable to the box and pushed the button. And, God bless it, they lifted. Not with the explosive acceleration the box produced when it was just him hooked to the line, but with a steady, whining crawl. They passed the first story and then the second, with two stories left to go. Thankfully, the warehouse was only four stories high.

"I think the motor's burning," Barry said suddenly. He sounded like he was struggling to keep his voice calm.

Jiya sniffed. "Yup. I can smell it."

"We're almost there," Oliver said grimly. "Just a little more."

They passed the third story, with Oliver's shoulder and back muscles beginning to protest at the strain of holding Jiya and Barry. He could feel the heat from the motor on his abdomen and sent up a silent prayer. "Almost there," he repeated in a whisper.

They were four feet shy of the roof when the motor died. Fortunately, it died with the cable locked, leaving them hanging instead of allowing them to fall.

"What now?" Barry asked.

"Now, you climb up over me, using normal, _human_ strength," Oliver grunted. "And then, once you're on the roof, you help Jiya up. I'll be right behind."

Barry glanced down. "It's a long way to the ground," he said slowly. "And your suit's a little slippery. Maybe we could try lowering ourselves to the closest window?"

Oliver's back muscles had passed _protesting_ and were now into _screaming_. "I don't think so," he said through clenched teeth. "You've got to climb - I don't think I can hold on to the two of you much longer."

"Point taken," Barry said. "Climbing now." He raised one leg and pressed his foot onto Oliver's belt, like rock climber finding a toehold on the side of a cliff. Then he scrambled awkwardly up Oliver's side, eventually stepping on his shoulder and then on his head as he reached for the edge of the roof.

And all of a sudden, a considerable weight was lifted from Oliver. He breathed out in relief as Barry grinned down at him.

"I made it," Barry said unnecessarily. "Now, Jiya, put your foot on Oliver's belt like I did, keep one hand on his shoulder and lift yourself. If you raise your other hand, I'll grab it and pull you up."

Jiya looked down at the ground and then back up at Barry. "No way in hell."

It sounded like something Felicity would say and Oliver laughed. _I think the strain must be catching up with me. I usually don't laugh like this on missions, especially when my wife is missing._

"Never mind," he said. "I can take it from here." Indeed, without Barry's weight, the roof felt attainable, even with Jiya clinging to him. He grabbed the cable with his gloved hands and pressed his feet against the building. Then he climbed the final few feet up the wall and over the edge as Jiya held on tightly.

Jiya let go as soon as Oliver stood on the roof, leaving him free to bend forward and rest with his hands on his thighs. He was breathing heavily and his heart was thumping. "I think I need to amp up my training routine once this is over," he said, more to himself than to Jiya and Barry.

"It was a lot of weight to carry," Jiya said sympathetically. "And being Mayor can't leave you a lot of time for the gym. I'm sure you're in great shape."

Oliver didn't answer – just took a few more deep breaths. Then he straightened. "Okay," he said. "Let's each take a few skylights and see what we can find. Try to walk quietly. And if you see the Mothership, don't yell. Just wave your hand."

Barry and Jiya nodded and the three of them separated to begin looking through the skylights. Like most warehouses, the building was hollow in the center with offices and walkways on the perimeter. This meant that they could see all the way to the first floor through the middle skylights, but only down one story when they were close to the outer walls. In other words, there were a lot of places for people to be hidden. Oliver wasn't happy about that, but he wasn't surprised either.

In less than two minutes Jiya was waving her hand.

"I've found it," she called in a stage whisper. "I've found the Mothership."

Oliver jogged over to her and peered down the skylight. There was a large, white sphere on the first floor; the size and shape made him think of two Volkswagen Beetles, hugging. The sphere looked like it could hold a half dozen people – assuming they didn't mind being in close proximity. The shiny white exterior revealed a door that was similar to the doors on commercial airplanes, but no windows. _Probably not a bad idea_ , he thought. _Who wants to look out of a window when you're bending space-time?_

Barry joined them at the skylight. "Oh, wow," he said, gazing down at the Mothership. "Somehow I thought it would look more…aerodynamic." He turned to Jiya. "Is it running?"

She shook her head. "No. See that string of lights around the sphere?" When Barry and Oliver both nodded, she continued, "If it was running, they'd be lit up."

Barry grinned. "So, I can speed then?"

"I think so."

"Great."

And before Oliver could say a word, Barry disappeared with a _whoosh_ and a brief flash of light. Jiya's eyes went wide and she sucked in her breath. "Well, that's pretty cool," she whispered.

Thirty seconds later Barry was back on the roof.

"I looked in all the offices and found two armed guards," he said calmly. "I knocked them unconscious and locked them into one of the offices. The only other person I saw was a woman – and I'm guessing she must be Emma Whitmore. She's in an office close to the Mothership. I didn't go near her. I figured you'd want to deal with her yourself ."

"I do," Oliver agreed. "I've got to figure out whether she's going to help us or try to stop us." He reached back and pulled his hood over his head. Until this point, he hadn't bothered with it because Jiya and Barry knew his identity and there had been no signs of security cameras. Now, however, it was time to go full Green Arrow. He shifted the bow to his left hand, ready to fire quickly.

Jiya eyed him. "You certainly are more intimidating with the hood up," she said. "You may need that look for Emma." She paused, then added, "What do you want me to do?"

Good question. Oliver thought about it.

"I want you to come with me," he said, "but be ready to run if I tell you. I'm going to make things happen quickly – I don't want to spend fifteen minutes trying to persuade Emma. Either she agrees right away to pilot the Mothership, with a little help from this," he waved his bow, "or I disable her and you pilot the ship."

Jiya nodded. She didn't appear to have any objection to the word _disable_ …or to piloting the Mothership. There was no dissent from Agent Christopher over the comms, either.

"I'm pretty sure there's a door over there that will open up to a set of stairs," Oliver continued, pointing to a corner of the warehouse roof where there was a small, square shack . "We'll go down that way."

Jiya nodded again.

Barry looked at Oliver apologetically. "It's probably best if I leave," he said. "I don't want to be anywhere near the Mothership, or even speeding away, when you start it up. If I take off now, I can be back in Central City and sitting down in S.T.A.R. labs in a few minutes."

"Good plan." Mason's voice was brusque over the comms. "You've taken enough risk already."

Oliver nodded at Barry. "I understand," he said. "And thanks for your help. Felicity and I will come visit you when this is all over."

Barry smiled. "Like I said earlier, Oliver, it's the least I can do." Then his smile faded. "I think Jiya's right about Emma, by the way. I think you're going need to be intimidating with her. When I saw her, she was cleaning a Glock. She looked pretty comfortable handling the weapon."

Oliver nodded again. "Thanks for the heads up."

He and Barry looked at each other.

"Okay then," Barry said. He stepped forward and gave Oliver a bro hug, slapping him briefly on the back. "Good luck. If anyone deserves to get his wife back, it's you."

There was another _whoosh_ , and Barry was gone.

Oliver turned to Jiya. "Ready?"

She smiled nervously. "As ready as I'll ever be."

He reached out and rested his hand lightly on her upper arm. "You'll do fine. I can tell already. You're as brave as my wife."

She didn't reply, but her smile became less nervous.

He gave her a few more seconds to prepare herself; then he quietly said, "Let's go."

They walked side by side to the small square shack on the roof. The door was locked, but the lock was a flimsy thing and Oliver was able to kick the door in easily. Sure enough, it opened to a set of stairs. He and Jiya moved silently down the four flights, then emerged from the corner stairwell onto the first floor of the warehouse. They could see the Mothership a few dozen yards away, in an exposed location near the middle of the floor. He gestured at the outside wall, signaling to Jiya that they should move around the perimeter and check the offices. She nodded.

The windows of the two closest offices were dark. The third office, however, was brightly lit and its door was ajar. Oliver passed by the window and pressed his back lightly against the door. Then he leaned forward to peer around its edge.

There was a woman sitting in a chair. She had long, reddish-blonde hair and she looked wiry and very fit, although a few years older than Oliver. As Barry had said, she was cleaning a gun. She had part of a Glock in her hand, with a few more parts of it next to her on the floor, and she was working a rag up and down the barrel. He could smell the mechanical scent of gun oil.

 _Now's as good a time as any_ , he thought. _Better to approach her while the gun is still in pieces and she can't shoot me._

He leaned back from the corner of the door, turned and caught Jiya's eye. Then he tilted his head toward the office to say, _I'm going in now_.

Jiya nodded. _Okay_.

He pointed at her; then followed the motion with a _stop_ gesture, like a cop directing traffic. _You stay here_.

She nodded again. She'd understood.

Oliver turned back toward the doorway, silently nocked an arrow, then pushed the door open and stepped into the office. He raised the bow and pointed it straight at the woman.

She looked up, startled. Then her gaze briefly dropped to the pieces of the Glock on the floor next to her. Oliver recalled his best friend and former army sergeant, John Diggle, telling him that a good soldier could reassemble his gun in ten seconds, so he stepped forward and kicked the Glock parts across the room. Then he moved back a couple of paces.

"Emma Whitmore?" He deepened his voice but didn't try too hard to disguise it. She'd never met him, after all.

She didn't answer. She just stared at him, letting her eyes travel slowly upward; from his boots, to his body, and finally, to his hood and his mask. "Well, I'll be damned," she said. "The Green Arrow, coming to see little old me."

Her voice was steady. Any fear she'd had when he'd surprised her had quickly been suppressed.

"Emma Whitmore," he repeated, this time making it a statement and not a question.

She nodded. "That's me." Then she gave him a curious look. "Green Arrow - your visit is certainly a surprise. We've been following your activities, but I never thought I'd meet you in person – at least not right now."

 _They'd been following him? Why the hell had they been following him?_ Oliver stared at her.

"We're always interested in someone who challenges society's rules," she explained, as if she'd understood his thoughts, "someone who isn't willing to be a sheep. You certainly fit that bill – _the vigilante of_ _Star City_."

"We? Meaning Rittenhouse?"

She nodded again and arched one eyebrow. "You know about Rittenhouse. I'm impressed – your information network must be very good."

He shrugged. "I hear things."

"So what brings The Green Arrow to my door?" she continued. "I've never been to Star City, so I certainly couldn't have failed it. And I doubt you're here to join Rittenhouse, as interesting as that might be." She gave him an assessing look. "My guess is that you want something. Now, what on earth could The Green Arrow want from me?"

She was a cool customer - he had to give her that. He recalled his resolve to move quickly and not get caught up in a debate. He straightened his bow arm to emphasize the fact that he was aiming an arrow at her. "I want the Mothership," he said simply. "And I want you to pilot it for me."

Her eyes widened, and for a few seconds her swagger faded. "The Mothership? You want to travel in time?" Then she laughed and her swagger was back. "Why in hell would I agree to give you the Mothership?"

He shrugged again. "Well, to start with, you probably don't want to get shot. And if that's not enough motivation, then because you don't want to lose the Mothership. And you _will_ lose it if you don't agree to fly it - because I'll just take it myself."

"You think _you_ can fly it?" Her voice was heavy with derision.

Oliver shook his head. "No. But I've got someone with me who can."

"Who?" She seemed genuinely puzzled.

Jiya stepped into the doorway. "He's got me, Emma."

Emma's eyes moved past Oliver, to where Jiya stood behind him. Then she laughed once more. "Jiya? Are you trying to keep up with the grownups again?" She narrowed her eyes at Oliver. "I see you've aligned yourself with Team Christopher. Your judgment is as bad as your threatening skills, Green Arrow. Jiya's just a girl. You'll soon find out that she's useless."

Oliver thought about how young Felicity was when she'd first started helping him. "I've learned not to underestimate the skill and courage of girls," he said flatly. "Some of them can surprise you. I've already seen what Jiya can do and I have no doubt that she can pilot the Mothership."

Emma smirked. "You must have had a few doubts, or wouldn't be standing here asking _me_ to fly it."

"I admit I thought it might make things happen more quickly," he conceded. "I can see I was mistaken." He took his hand off the bow string and retrieved a pair of zip cuffs from his belt, then quickly returned the hand to the string. "In fact, I can see talking to you is a complete waste of time, Emma." He walked the final few steps to her chair, preparing to cuff her to it. "Go get the Mothership ready, Jiya," he said, not taking his eyes off Emma. "I'll be there in a minute."

There was a silent pause.

Then Jiya said, "Um, Green Arrow?"

He pulled Emma's wrists behind the chair and cuffed them together. "Yes?"

"I think we have a problem."

Oliver turned and followed the direction of Jiya's finger as she pointed out the doorway.

A man and a woman were approaching from the opposite side of the warehouse. They were too far away for him to make out their features, but it was clear that both of them were carrying guns. Either they had just arrived, he thought, or Barry had missed them when he'd searched the offices.

Emma grinned. "Oops," she said.

He gave an internal groan. _I can see talking to you is a complete waste of time_ – which was exactly what she had wanted. She had wanted to burn time until her colleagues arrived. _Well, screw that_.

Oliver raised his bow and stepped in front of Jiya. Without hesitating, he fired an arrow at the man, hitting his hand and forcing him to drop the gun. Then he swiftly nocked another arrow and aimed it at the woman. It was an easy shot. She was closer now, her features becoming more visible.

There was something familiar about her. He squinted for better focus and his heart leapt into his throat.

He lowered his bow.

"Mom?" he whispered.

If the woman heard him, she gave no sign of it. She looked at her comrade, clutching his wounded hand painfully to his chest. Then she looked back at Oliver.

She raised her pistol and fired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well...you knew this moment was coming....
> 
> Many, many thank you's for the comments. It's such a kick to read them and they almost always give me ideas.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know I left you with a bit of a cliffhanger so I did my best to get this out quickly. Hope the wait wasn't too bad. Once again, thanks to bushlaboo for the edit. I know it may not seem fast to readers, but thanks to her help, I'm chugging along at about 10,000 words per month -- which is pretty darn sporty for me.

Oliver had lost track of the number of times people had tried to shoot him during his relatively short life. Folks had started firing guns at him even before he was The Green Arrow – back when he'd been shipwrecked on the island - so he'd been a target for somebody or other for over ten years. He guessed he'd been in the crosshairs hundreds of times, if not thousands.

And after a decade of being shot at, the one thing that continued to surprise him was how many thoughts could race through his mind before a bullet came to a stop (either in him, or preferably, in another object). A bullet moves at roughly 1700 miles per hour, more than twice the speed of sound. But even travelling that fast, its speed is finite; governed by quantities like weight, power, and air density. Thoughts, on the other hand, are not subject to these laws. Thoughts are like Barry Allen; they flash around the brain like lightening, a new one starting up before the preceding one is finished. And maybe because Oliver had so much experience facing bullets, he was more adept than most at thinking when they started flying.

All of which meant that his head was pretty damn busy when he saw the woman who looked like Moira Queen raise her arm and point her pistol. Images of his mother's death came to mind, followed by the notion that Felicity's trip to 1884 may have changed the timeline and he was living in a world where his mother was no longer dead. His mom had shot him once before - back when she had encountered The Arrow and had not known that he was her son. There was nothing to say she wouldn't do it again. This idea was quickly dismissed, however, when he remembered that he wouldn't know of his mother's death if the timeline had really changed.

In the end, the thought that surfaced to the top in milliseconds and replaced all the others was not about his mother or himself. It was about Jiya and the promise he had made to protect her. He could still hear Agent Christopher's voice over the comms: _You'll make sure nothing happens to her?_

Damn right he would.

Jiya had been standing directly behind him, but Oliver sensed that she had moved to his side when he had fired his arrow at the man, which meant that part of her body was now exposed through the office doorway. The woman was lifting her pistol from a distance of about twelve yards; a reasonable shot for a trained marksman but not at all a certainty for an amateur. Oliver wondered which one his mother's doppelganger was - the marksman or the amateur?

He decided he wasn't going to wait to find out. As the woman's pistol arm swung upward, he spun and grabbed Jiya by the shoulders, pushing her away from the door and toward the floor of the office, covering her body with his as they fell. They landed hard on the cement at the same instant that he heard the crack of the gun, with Jiya making a sharp hiss as the air left her lungs. He felt no searing pain, and looking at Jiya's face, didn't see any sign that she had been hit either. She looked frightened but otherwise unhurt. They lay behind the cover of the office wall, out of harm's way – at least for the next few seconds.

Emma Whitmore was not so lucky.

"Son of a bitch!" she screamed.

Keeping Jiya covered with his body, Oliver rolled just enough to look over his shoulder and up at Emma's chair. The woman was still seated, but now there was a red stain spreading rapidly over her left upper arm. She stared at it, her expression a mixture of shock, anger and agony. With her hands cuffed behind her, there wasn't much she could do except watch the blood flow down her arm and begin to drip off her fingers.

His mother's doppelganger stepped through the office doorway.

"Oh Emma," she said, gawking at the still-growing red stain.

"You shot me, Carol," Emma said through clenched teeth. "What the hell were you thinking?"

 _Carol_ , Oliver thought, and searched his memory for any mention of a _Carol_ on his mother's side of the family. No one came to mind.

"I didn't see you," Carol replied to Emma. "I just saw the intruders in the doorway of the office and reacted when they shot at Nicholas. I didn't know you were sitting behind them. I'm so sorry."

Oliver noted that while she sounded apologetic, Carol didn't appear entirely guilt-ridden by Emma's injury. Nor was she rushing to Emma's side to un-cuff her or examine the wound. She simply stood there as Emma glared at her, as if weighing her options for her next move.

 _A little friction in the ranks of Rittenhouse?_ he wondered _._

Carol turned from Emma and stared down at the floor where Oliver lay, still protecting Jiya with his body. "Up," she said crisply, waving her pistol at him. "Get up." She made no move to free Emma.

Oliver looked into Jiya's eyes and she gave a tiny nod, as if to say, _let's deal with this_. He nodded back, then rolled off her body and stood, giving the girl a hand to help her up. He stood between Jiya and Carol and stared at Carol as frankly as she was staring at him. It was eerie how much she resembled Moira Queen. There was a slight difference in eye color, he realized, and a subtle variation in a few of her features, but the resemblance was uncanny. It was hard to imagine an explanation other than common DNA.

"I see you've found a new friend, Jiya," Carol said. "What on earth made you decide to recruit The Green Arrow?"

She even sounded like Oliver's mother. Her voice was cool and a little detached, as if she were showing polite interest at a cocktail party instead of pointing a pistol.

Oliver squeezed Jiya's arm. _I've got this_. Jiya looked at Carol with distaste and then back at Oliver, and nodded again.

Carol redirected her gaze to Oliver. "Why are you here? And why are you attacking us? We've done nothing to you."

Hearing her voice, he felt an urge to tell her about Felicity; to tell her about _all_ the things that had happened in his life since Moira had been murdered four years ago. _That's not Mom_ , he reminded himself. _That's a woman who just tried to shoot you, and who's blocking your way to Felicity. Be careful._

"I have no wish to attack you," he said quietly.

"I find that a little hard to believe. You just shot my colleague." She pointed outside of the office, to where the man Oliver had wounded a minute ago was examining his hand.

Oliver shrugged. "Only a glancing hit, just to get him to drop the gun. If I'd wanted him dead, he'd be dead. And I could have shot _you_ by now, too, if I'd really wanted to." He made a small gesture with his bow, reminding everyone that he was still armed. "Clearly, I don't want to do that."

Her brow furrowed. "Then why are you here?"

Before he could answer, the man stepped through the doorway. He was somewhere in his early thirties, Oliver guessed, and he was holding his right hand with his left, cradling it to his chest. Oliver's arrow had produced an angry slash across the knuckles but the wound did not look deep. It wasn't bleeding like Emma's arm.

The man's gaze took in Oliver and Carol before moving to Emma and her blood-soaked sleeve.

"Oh, Emma."

It was the same thing Carol had said, but the man's sorrow sounded a little more heartfelt.

"Let me untie you," he added.

He knelt next to her chair and pulled a folding knife out of his pants pocket. Then he awkwardly sliced through the zip cuffs, his injured hand hindering the process. Emma grimaced as she straightened her arms and brought them forward across her chest. After a minute, she gently fingered the wound in her left bicep.

"Is the bullet still in there?" the man asked.

Emma tentatively probed the arm. "No. Pretty sure it went straight through."

"Good." The man appeared satisfied. "It should be okay after we bandage it, then. No need for a doctor." He sounded less concerned.

 _This group isn't big on sympathy,_ Oliver thought.

The man turned to study Oliver with an expression of mild curiosity. Then he turned to Carol. "Has The Green Arrow told you why he's here?"

His voice was calm but demanding. Whoever he was, he believed he was in charge.

Carol shook her head. "Not yet. We were just getting to that."

"He called her, _Mom_ ," Emma said suddenly.

" _What?_ " Carol turned quickly to gape at Emma. For a few seconds, her composure slipped.

"He called Carol, _Mom_ ," Emma repeated, speaking to the man and avoiding Carol's eyes. "I heard him whisper it under his breath. That's why he lowered his bow."

The man nodded thoughtfully.

"You don't seem surprised, Nicholas," Carol said. "I realize we've… _altered_ …a few things as we've traveled, but to the best of my knowledge I've never had a son - not in any timeline. Is there something I should be aware of?" Her composure was returning.

The man she'd just called Nicholas gave her a long, considering look. "If he's who I think he is, then I'm quite certain we are related."

 _We_? Oliver thought. _Who exactly are_ we _?_

"Which means," Nicholas continued, "that he has Rittenhouse blood."

* * *

The Lifeboat didn't have a mirror. Felicity wasn't sure that was a bad thing. Part of her wanted to see what she looked like as an 1880's woman; another part was certain that the clothes were ridiculous on her. She'd worn plenty of long dresses in her life, but they'd all been distinctly twenty-first century – soft materials that clung to her body and flowed elegantly to the floor. The dress she was wearing now was made of stiff cotton that could probably stand on its own in a rainstorm. The bodice wasn't too bad; it fit snugly and showed no cleavage. The skirt, however, flared out dramatically at the hips before dropping straight to the ground. She had a feeling that her silhouette resembled a bell. Not to mention that the corset and bustle were pretty damn uncomfortable.

Felicity had wanted to stay in her jeans and tunic but Lucy had insisted that she change clothes.

"You can't wander around 1880's New York wearing jeans," she'd said. "You've already made Tesla rethink his plans. God knows who else you might influence."

"I wasn't trying-"

Lucy had held up her hand. "I know. I'm sorry - I didn't mean to make it sound that way. None of this is your fault, Felicity. It's just lousy luck."

Felicity tried once again to examine her reflection in the console of the Lifeboat before giving up and turning to Lucy in the cramped confines of the ship. Wyatt and Rufus were waiting outside in Central Park, happy to be at a safe distance from anything to do with women's fashion. "Well?" Felicity asked.

Lucy studied her. "It's not bad," she said. "The dress mostly hides your boots so I don't think anyone will notice your footwear. Unfortunately, your glasses are not nineteenth century, but there's nothing we can do about that. You have to be able to see."

"Yes, I do," Felicity agreed. She looked down at the yards of pale blue fabric surrounding her legs. "I apologize for anything bad I ever said about polyester," she remarked.

Lucy laughed. "I've travelled to the nineteenth century quite a few times now. I guess I've kind of gotten used to the clothes." She glanced over her shoulder at her own backside. "Although I'm not crazy about the bustles. I found it easier in the early 1800's when they weren't in fashion."

She stepped closer to Felicity and gave an experimental poke at the pins holding Felicity's hair in a low bun. Then she stepped back and eyed Felicity one more time. "I think you'll do. Let's see what the boys have to say."

Lucy turned and climbed out of the round porthole that served as the door of the Lifeboat. Wyatt was there in an instant, putting his hands around Lucy's waist and lifting her down. Felicity followed, moving carefully to ease the wide bustle of her dress through the small opening. To her surprise, Rufus hurried over and held out his hand.

"It's a big step down," he said with a grin.

Felicity nodded and clasped the offered hand. "The dress doesn't help." She slid awkwardly down the side of the Lifeboat, clinging to Rufus the entire way.

When she had both feet on the ground, Lucy gestured at her. "Well, guys? What do you think?"

Wyatt gave a low whistle. "She looks pretty 1880's to me. Where'd you manage to find the clothes, Luce?"

Lucy gave him a rueful smile. "I… _liberated_ …them from a clothesline. Apparently it's laundry day on the east side of the city."

Wyatt and Rufus both laughed.

Felicity was glad _someone_ was finding humor in the situation. "So, what do we do now?" she asked the group in general. "We're supposed to be locating Tesla and getting him to change his mind about working for Edison. Normally when I want to find someone, I check to see if he's just used his credit card or I hack into security camera footage. Those aren't options here."

Wyatt frowned. "What is it that you do, exactly, that has you hacking into security footage to look for people?"

"I-" Felicity stopped. She was getting so comfortable with Lucy, Wyatt and Rufus that she was starting to feel like she was at home, working a mission. She'd forgotten that the Time Team didn't know she supported (and was married to) The Green Arrow.

Fortunately, Rufus supplied the answer. "With Felicity's computer skills," he said cheerfully, "why not hack? If I were that good at breaking through firewalls, it's what I'd do."

Wyatt didn't appear entirely satisfied with Rufus's explanation but – to Felicity's relief – didn't pursue it. "Well," he said flatly, "since we can't find Tesla online, we're going to have to do it the old-fashioned way."

Felicity raised one eyebrow. "Which is?"

Wyatt shrugged. "We take a guess and walk there."

It sounded inefficient but Felicity didn't have any better ideas. "So where do we think Tesla would go?" she asked.

"You're the only one who of us who spoke with him," Lucy replied. "Did he say anything that gives _you_ an idea?"

Felicity tried to recall her conversation with Tesla. "Yesterday was his first day in America," she said slowly, "and I don't think he mentioned having family here. So he's alone in the city and he doesn't have anyone that he would visit." She paused to think. "He's from Serbia," she added. "It would be natural for him to want to be with people from his home. Is there a Serb neighborhood in 1880's New York?"

It was hard to miss the way the men looked at Lucy expectantly. Felicity wondered if the historian ever got tired of having to produce answers.

Lucy shook her head. "There's no Serb neighborhood," she said confidently. "There's Little Germany, but I don't think that would feel at all like home to him."

"What about the train station?" Rufus suggested. "If he wants to go out west, wouldn't that be his next stop?"

"Maybe," Wyatt said thoughtfully. He stared at Felicity and then frowned. "Except that he made a date with our friend Felicity, here, for supper. I think he's going to keep that date."

Felicity shook her head. "I hadn't intended to actually meet him. I told him I would have supper with him just to make him stop following me. To be honest, I was hoping I'd be back in my own century by supper-time tonight."

Wyatt grinned. "Sure - but _he_ doesn't know that. As far as he's concerned, the two of you are connecting at – when?"

Felicity grimaced. "Six o'clock."

"There you go," Wyatt grinned again. "Six o'clock."

It was only eleven in the morning. Felicity took a deep breath and felt the corset constrain her rib cage. "So, you're saying we have to wait around and do nothing for seven hours until it's time for me to meet Tesla?" She pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers. "I'm not sure I can take it. My husband must be frantic by now and I'm not far behind him. I'll go crazy – especially wearing this get-up." She gestured at her dress.

Wyatt shrugged. "We can walk around Central Park and see if we run into him," he said. "If he's new to the city and doesn't have friends, there's a chance he'll be back here before six. It's the place where he met a friendly face."

"I don't know," Rufus said slowly. "We're trying to avoid changing history. Maybe it's best if we all keep a low profile – just hang out here in the woods by the Lifeboat til six."

"History has already changed," Wyatt said. "Tesla's decided to go west, which means he won't work with Westinghouse and the general public won't get electricity for a long time. How much worse can we make it just by walking around the park?"

The four of them looked at each other. "Fine," Rufus eventually said. "We walk around the park. But let's try not to talk to anyone other than Tesla."

Wyatt nodded. "Agreed."

* * *

"Oh good God," Emma said, shaking her head. "There the two of you go again, talking about _Rittenhouse_ _blood._ As if the rest of us who sacrifice for the cause don't matter." She stared pointedly at her wounded arm as Nicholas wrapped a strip of white cloth around it to staunch the bleeding. She hadn't gotten up from her chair and her face was pale. Oliver wondered how much blood she had lost.

Carol remained standing with her pistol trained on Oliver and Jiya. She was eyeing him with a curious expression, though, and didn't seem especially determined to shoot him. Jiya was staring at him, too, but she lacked Carol's poker face. She appeared frightened - more by the news of his Rittenhouse connection, he guessed, than by the pistol pointed at her. There was nothing at all from Agent Christopher over the comms. He figured the older devices had given up the ghost, leaving Jiya and him on their own.

"Who are your parents?" Carol asked him.

Emma rolled her eyes and snorted, "He wears a disguise for a reason, Carol. I don't think he's going to start discussing his family tree with strangers."

Carol didn't respond, but her expression morphed into a look of pinched annoyance. It was similar to the expression Moira Queen used to make whenever Oliver got suspended from school. He reminded himself once again that she was _not_ his mother.

Nicholas tied the ends of the bandage in a knot around Emma's arm and then straightened. "Now Emma, let's not pretend that we haven't been following The Green Arrow," he said coolly, "and that we haven't seen the news about who the FBI suspects him to be."

Emma shook her head. "To be honest, Nicholas, I haven't been paying _that_ much attention. I read about The Green Arrow online because you asked us to, but he hasn't exactly been an obsession for me."

Carol ignored Emma. "Oliver Queen," she replied to Nicholas. "The Star City news says the FBI suspects Oliver Queen of being The Green Arrow."

Nicholas nodded. "Precisely."

Oliver didn't say anything. He wasn't about to confirm or deny his identity. He wanted to hear why this man, Nicholas, was interested in him at all.

It wasn't clear to Carol either. "I'm sorry, Nicholas," she said, "but why would you think Oliver Queen has Rittenhouse blood? I don't understand."

"I wouldn't expect you to." Nicholas smiled. "It goes back decades before you were born. Back to 1917, shortly before I left for the war in Europe." He took a few steps closer to Carol as he continued, "A couple of months before I left for France, I had an affair. It didn't mean much. Your mother was still quite young, she was our only child, and my wife was obsessed with taking care of her. She didn't have time for me. And I suppose like most men about to risk death, I felt a need for some kind of human connection before I went into battle." He said it as if he were disappointed at himself for needing other people.

Oliver tried to make sense of what he had just heard. The man in front of him, who looked no older than Oliver, had been a soldier in 1917? That would place him in World War I and make him somewhere in the vicinity of 130 years old. _They have a time ship_ , he reminded himself. _It's possible that someone pulled him forward in time_. But what did he mean by saying to Carol that her mother was his only child?

Oliver worked through the relationships in his head. It meant, he realized, that Carol was Nicholas's granddaughter. He stared at the pair and felt an urge to laugh. Nicholas looked young enough to be her son when he was, in fact, her grandfather.

_Time travel does some weird things._

"Not long after my unit arrived in France," Nicholas went on, "I received a letter from the woman telling me she was with child. She was married and could pass the baby off as her husband's, so I didn't think much about it. However, ever since you brought me to this time, I've been wondering what became of that child - _my_ child. I used that electronic tablet you gave me to do a little research."

"And?" Carol prompted. She sounded nervous.

"And the woman had a daughter," Nicholas replied, "who grew up and eventually married Jonas Dearden. And then my daughter and Dearden had a daughter of their own; Moira – who is my granddaughter and your cousin." He frowned, "Or maybe, technically, your half cousin. I don't know if there is such a thing."

Moira Dearden. Later Moira Dearden Queen, Oliver's mother; which meant that the man standing in front of Oliver now was his great-grandfather.

"You're certain about this?" Carol didn't sound happy. "You can find a lot of garbage on the internet."

Emma laughed. "Oh dear, Carol, are you worried that Nicholas has another granddaughter propagating Rittenhouse genes? Does it upset you that you're not the only one?"

Nicholas didn't spare Emma a glance. "I'm quite certain it's true," he said flatly to Carol. "I found the information from several sources. And I found Moira Dearden's photograph." When Carol just looked at him he added, "The two of you could be sisters – twins, really. You are that similar. It's a testament to the strength of Rittenhouse blood."

Carol's brow furrowed deeply. "But what does all of this have to do with The Green Arrow – and with Oliver Queen, if that's who The Green Arrow really is?"

Nicholas smiled again. "Moira Dearden _Queen_ was Oliver Queen's mother. Which would make Oliver my great-grandson and a direct descendant of David Rittenhouse."

Oliver heard Jiya inhale sharply.

" _Was_?" Emma repeated. "She _was_ his mother?"

"Yes," Nicholas replied. "Moira was killed a few years ago. It's a shame, because from what I read, she was willing to do what's necessary to change society when it needs to be changed - even if it means breaking laws or sacrificing lives. Had she known of us…of her heritage…she could have been a true asset." He shrugged. "But then it's also clear that she passed that trait along to her son – assuming Oliver Queen _is_ The Green Arrow. The man is a vigilante, after all."

There was a pause as Emma, Nicholas and Carol gave Oliver an assessing look.

"And you're certain of this – of all of this?" Carol asked Nicholas again.

"Quite certain," Nicholas affirmed.

Oliver's mind was racing as quickly as it had when he'd been facing Carol's gun. If he was to believe what Agent Christopher had told him, Rittenhouse was an organization bent on imposing its idea of order on the rest of the world. It was a notion most _normal_ people would abhor; however, it was clear that Nicholas and Carol were dedicated to it. It was also clear that they saw _Rittenhouse blood_ as some kind of badge of honor.

He wondered if he could use that. He'd been prepared to fight his way to the Mothership, but it occurred to him that it might be better if he leveraged his supposed Rittenhouse kinship to obtain cooperation. It would reduce the risk of harm to Jiya, for example, if everyone put his gun away. And it would be easier to concentrate on finding Felicity if he didn't have to keep a constant eye on Emma.

The Rittenhouse team was still looking at him expectantly and he realized the next move was his. He reached for Jiya's hand and gave it a brief squeeze. _Play along with me here, Jiya. I need your help_. She squeezed back, and he hoped that meant she understood. Then he lifted his arms and pulled the hood off his head, followed by the mask. He looked Nicholas in the eye and nodded. "Yes," he said shortly. "I'm Oliver Queen." He let the declaration hang there for several seconds and then added, "Should I call you _Grandpa_?"

Jiya eyed him warily and said nothing. _Smart girl_.

Nicholas smiled; but it was a cagey smile – confident and superior. There was no warmth in it. He was the kind of man, Oliver realized, who believed he was always the smartest person in the room.

"Oliver," Nicholas said. "Welcome to the family. This must be something of a shock."

Oliver nodded. "It is," he agreed. "But I have to admit it's also kind of exciting. I don't have many living relatives. It's good to meet one."

The smile remained on Nicholas's face. "Yes. Family is good. _Blood_ is good."

"Oh, give me a break!" Emma burst out. "Ten minutes ago you all were ready to shoot each other and now you're having a family reunion?" She stood up from her chair. Oliver noted that her legs were a little unsteady. _She's lost a lot of blood_.

"Queen came here to steal the Mothership," Emma continued angrily. "You can't possibly be ready to trust him, just because you share a few strands of DNA."

It was the wrong thing to say. Nicholas turned and gave her an icy stare. "I'm perfectly capable of figuring out who can be trusted, Emma. And I don't expect you to understand the importance of blood in Rittenhouse. You're a hard worker, but you're not family." He turned back to Oliver. "Why _do_ you want the Mothership?" he asked.

Oliver decided to stick with the truth. He'd learned a long time ago that even in a bluff, it was best to use the facts whenever possible. "There's someone who was sent to the past by mistake," he replied, "and I want to bring them back to the present, where they belong. To do that, I need a time machine."

"Who?" Carol asked.

This time, Oliver opted for the lie. He wasn't about to reveal that he wanted to retrieve his wife; it would give Team Rittenhouse too much leverage. He shrugged casually. "One of the guys who does technical support for my team. We need him. It'll take too much time for someone new to get up to speed." He hoped Nicholas's research hadn't been deep enough for him to suspect that Felicity was his technical support.

"How did he end up in the past," Emma asked suspiciously, "if you don't have a time machine yourself?"

Jiya spoke for the first time. "You put him there, actually, when you tried to travel to 1884 in the Mothership yesterday. You created a wormhole and he was pulled down it."

Emma's eyes widened and she sat abruptly in her chair. Nicholas and Carol shared a knowing glance. "He's in 1884?" Nicholas repeated.

Oliver nodded. "Yes."

"The part about the wormhole rings true," Carol said to Nicholas. "Emma aborted the landing yesterday because she saw some strange gravitational readings. We didn't know what was causing them."

Emma shook her head. "Maybe there _was_ a wormhole," she said tightly. "But how the hell could _Queen_ know that? Nothing I've read about The Green Arrow suggests he's ever been involved with time travel. How could he guess that his guy was sent to the past, and how did he wind up with Jiya, here? His story stinks."

Nicholas looked at Oliver expectantly. Once again, Oliver went with the truth. "There was a witness who came and told me," he replied. "The Flash was with my tech guy and got pulled down the wormhole with him. The Flash managed to escape; my guy did not."

There was a pause while Nicholas digested this information. Then he nodded. "It makes sense," he said.

"When The Flash told me what had happened," Oliver continued, "I asked my sources in the intelligence community to search for people with time travel capability and they came up with Connor Mason. Mason connected me to Jiya," he gestured at her, "and then she led me to you and the Mothership. So that's how I got here. And, yes, it's true I want the Mothership. But only to bring my guy home."

"And _we_ agreed to help him," Jiya added. "It's a big risk leaving a technical expert in the past. All kinds of things can change. Agent Christopher didn't want to take that risk."

Another pause, as Team Rittenhouse absorbed this explanation.

"Why not use Mason's ship?" Emma asked. "Surely, the Lifeboat would work just as well?"

Oliver shook his head. "The Lifeboat isn't available. It's already on a trip."

"Where?" Carol asked sharply.

Oliver decided to risk it. "1884," he replied. He hoped he wasn't making a mistake.

Emma grinned. "They must have followed us," she said to Nicholas. "Good to see them wasting their time on a wild goose chase."

Nicholas didn't smile back. "I don't know," he replied slowly. "It's been eighteen hours. I would have thought they'd have figured out that you didn't land and be back by now. I'm wondering if they're up to something else in 1884."

"You think Lucy, Wyatt and Rufus are trying to change history?" Emma asked derisively. "Jiya just reminded us that they're the team that's supposed to _preserve_ it."

Carol stood a little straighter. "Well, Lucy _is_ from a Rittenhouse family," she said. "I wouldn't be surprised if she's decided to act like it."

Nicholas didn't appear convinced. "Lucy's never shown herself to be aligned with our cause," he said dryly. "There's only one way to find out what that team is up to. You have to go back to 1884."

Carol and Emma looked at each other. Neither one appeared particularly happy.

Nicholas turned to Oliver and smiled coldly. "It looks like you're going to get your wish, Oliver. You're going to travel in the Mothership."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all the readers who said Carol was Moira's sister or cousin...well, you guessed it. And for the "Timeless" fans...it was kind of fun to have Carol shoot Emma. You know why...


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to bushlaboo for the edit. We're finally going to get to see Oliver time travel, after all his efforts. We're also going to get to see him with his shirt off, because this wouldn't be Arrow if Oliver didn't go shirtless at least once.

Emma Whitmore grimaced as she gingerly moved her arm. Then she frowned at Nicholas.

"Why does Queen have to come on the Mothership?" she demanded.

It was a protest, not a question. It was clear she didn't want Oliver anywhere near their time machine and wasn't keen about travelling to 1884 to investigate, either. She looked angry, but then Oliver was beginning to think the woman only had two facial expressions; _angry_ and _sly_. It was hard to imagine her wearing a genuine smile.

"You need Oliver's help," Nicholas replied. "You're wounded, Emma. And given that you haven't been able to deal with Lucy all the times you had two good arms, I very much doubt you'll be able to manage her and her friends with one."

Emma gave him a disgusted look. "My pistol arm is fine. I can still shoot."

Nicholas shrugged. "Not well, evidently, or we wouldn't _still_ be worried about the Lifeboat team. They'd be taken care of by now." He glanced at Oliver and then raised an eyebrow pointedly at Emma. "From what I've read, The Green Arrow never misses."

Emma's mouth flattened into an unattractive, straight line. She didn't argue, but Oliver told himself that it would be a good idea not to turn his back on her anytime soon. His cooperation strategy may have convinced Nicholas to give him a ride on the Mothership, but it hadn't won him points with Emma.

"I'll be there too," Carol offered to Nicholas. "I can help Emma with Christopher's people."

It was Oliver's turn to raise an eyebrow. Five minutes ago the two women had been each other's throats. Now Carol was proffering assistance? He found it hard to believe that she could be on Emma's side in any situation. They were oil and water.

Apparently Emma wasn't buying it either. She gave a bitter laugh. "You won't convince Nicholas or me that you could ever harm Lucy, Carol. You've had multiple chances to deal with your daughter and you've never done a damn thing."

Daughter? Lucy was Carol's _daughter?_ _  
_

"I haven't killed Lucy because she will eventually embrace her heritage," Carol replied calmly. "She's tough and she's smart. She just needs to understand that Rittenhouse is what this country needs – _and_ her birthright."

"Ah, yes," Emma said, "here we go again. The Princess is entitled to her inheritance, even if she doesn't want it, so we let her get away with everything. Blood always wins out." She glanced at Oliver and assumed her _sly_ face. "Who knows? Maybe if Lucy and Oliver take a shine to one another they can produce a Rittenhouse baby so the next generation takes _its_ rightful place."

She said it sarcastically, but Carol and Nicholas looked at each other with thoughtful expressions, as if they were actually considering it.

Emma rolled her eyes. "Oh for God's sake, it was a joke. They're cousins."

Carol pursed her lips. " _Second_ cousins," she corrected primly. "And you have to go back three generations to get to the common family member – which is Nicholas. Their relationship wouldn't be a problem."

Jiya smothered a cough and Oliver decided he was going to nip the idea of being a Rittenhouse daddy in the bud. "Let's just focus on the mission," he said. "I want to get my guy back from 1884. _That's_ my priority. Leaving him in the past risks changing history in ways that neither of us may want." When they said nothing, he continued, "And just to be clear - I don't plan to kill anyone, unless it's absolutely necessary. I sure as hell don't think I'll be creating Rittenhouse babies."

Nicholas smiled, although his expression was nearly as sly as Emma's. "No, of course not," he said. "But I assume you will be agreeable to dealing with Lucy and her friends if they're interfering with history?"

Oliver nodded. "Yes – _if_ they're interfering with history."

He hoped to hell they weren't, because then he'd be faced with a difficult decision. He'd met two groups of people in the last twelve hours who were screwing around with time and he didn't know either of them well. It was obvious the Rittenhouse team was unhinged. There was no way he was going to further _their_ agenda unless Felicity's life hung in the balance. The story was muddier when it came to Agent Christopher and her team. Christopher was Homeland Security, which implied she was one of the good guys. And Jiya definitely struck him as a decent person, so the fact that she cared about Rufus and Lucy suggested they were decent people too. The truth, however, was that he'd only met them a few hours ago and really didn't know. The best-case scenario would be if he could find Felicity and return immediately to the present, without getting caught up in whatever was going on between these organizations.

He glanced at Jiya and saw that she was regarding him nervously. She was a smart woman and he had a feeling she could guess his thoughts. He wished he could get her alone to explain, but there was no chance of that happening right now.

He avoided her gaze and turned to Nicholas. "So what happens next?" he asked. "Do you have to fuel the Mothership or something? How soon before we can leave?"

Nicholas shrugged. "You can leave now. The Mothership is charged and ready to go."

"Really?" Oliver resisted the urge to pump his fist. After nearly a day of fear and frustration, he was finally on his way to Felicity. "Great." This time he allowed himself to meet Jiya's eyes. "Are you ready, Jiya?"

She nodded just as Emma shook her head. "What do you mean? She's not going. _I'm_ piloting the Mothership – we don't need her."

Oliver had anticipated this objection. Fortunately, Carol and her gun had provided him with a solution.

He regarded Emma steadily. "No offense, Emma, but you look terrible. You're pale and you've probably lost three pints of blood. There's a chance you could pass out. I'm not trusting my life to a pilot who might crash – or leave us stranded in 1884 because she's not well enough to fly home. Jiya knows how to pilot the Mothership. She's coming as your backup."

Emma glared at him before turning to Nicholas. "Nicholas-"

The man shook his head. "Oliver has a point, Emma. You don't look well. And you know the Mothership is vital to our strategy. I can't risk losing it in another century if you become incapacitated. Oliver wants to come back to the present. He'll make sure Jiya brings the ship home if you can't."

_You callous bastard,_ Oliver thought. _I may not like Emma, but that's a shitty way to treat a teammate._

Carol frowned. "It sounds like you don't intend to come on this trip, Nicholas?" She appeared puzzled but not upset.

Nicholas hesitated and then said, "I don't. There's nothing I can do to help and I think it's best that one of us stay behind…just in case."

Emma wrinkled her nose. "Just in case The Green Arrow decides to shoot us again, you mean. You don't want to risk your own neck."

Nicholas shrugged. "As I said, there's no need for me on this trip. Carol is an outstanding historian. If history is being meddled with, she'll figure it out. And Oliver is certainly more useful than me when it comes to shooting – more useful than any of us, I'll wager."

Emma's back stiffened at the implied rebuke, but Carol didn't give her the chance to launch into another argument. "Very well," she replied to Nicholas. "We'll take care of this." She turned to Oliver. "Come," she said, reaching out and touching him lightly on his hand. "Let's get you settled on the Mothership."

It was a strangely nurturing gesture for a woman who had waved a gun at him half an hour ago – not to mention after the general acrimony of the last few minutes. Her voice was cool and collected; very Moira Queen-like.

_She's not Mom_ , he reminded himself. Nevertheless, he allowed her to guide him to the time machine with her hand on the small of his back. After a short hesitation, Jiya followed.

The interior of the Mothership resembled a space capsule far more than it resembled the cockpit of an airplane. Oliver stared at the console and knew immediately that his flying skills were useless. There was no way on earth he could figure this thing out. He gave Jiya a weak smile as she walked through the door, relieved she was coming with him.

She didn't smile back.

"I'll help you with your harness," she said, pointing to one of the seats.

"Harness?"

She nodded. "Yup. The ride can get a little bumpy so we fasten ourselves down. Bending space-time will do that."

Oliver looked at the complicated arrangement of straps and buckles. "Fine," he replied, as he sat in the cramped, bucket seat. Then he added, "I can't remember the last time I ate, so at least I won't puke – probably."

She still didn't smile. She leaned close to him and pulled one of the straps snugly across his shoulders. As she did so, she whispered in his ear, "I know you're playing along with Rittenhouse to get back to 1884 and find your wife, but so help me God, if you do anything to hurt Rufus…or Lucy or Wyatt…I'm going to leave you stranded there. And that's the best scenario. You do not want to cross me."

It wasn't an idle threat. Oliver could see that she meant it and he believed she had the resolve to carry out that threat. Once again, he wished he could talk with her, but he saw Carol watching them so he smiled and nodded at Jiya, as if she were a flight attendant who had just offered him a beverage.

"Thanks," he said to Jiya. Then he turned to Carol. "Was that true what Emma and Nicholas were talking about earlier?" he asked. "Would Rittenhouse really expect you to kill your own daughter?"

Carol looked at him and after a moment said, "In a war, you sometimes have to make sacrifices. From what I've read about The Green Arrow, I would think you would understand that." Her face gave nothing away.

Oliver shook his head. "I understand sacrifice, but I would question the truth of any fight that asks me to kill someone I love – especially someone who is not doing evil, who just happens to disagree with me."

Carol frowned. "In a war, being on the other side _is_ being evil," she replied. "That's the definition - it's enough."

"But who decided this is a war? You? Nicholas? That's convenient." There was more he wanted to say, but Emma stomped onto the Mothership and slumped into the pilot's seat.

"Everyone ready?" she asked, pulling her own harness into place awkwardly with one hand.

Oliver noticed that she had a pistol holstered to her hip. He reminded himself once again not to turn his back on her.

Jiya sat in one of the empty seats and buckled herself in. "Yes," she replied. "Ready."

"Ready," Carol added.

"Okay." Emma began flicking switches.

"You should probably aim for June 7, 1884," Jiya suggested, "since you encountered the landing problem on the sixth."

Emma made an angry snort. "I _know_ that, Jiya."

The Mothership was beginning to vibrate.

"And we should try to land in Central Park," Oliver added. "That's where my guy went missing."

Emma didn't reply, but she typed something onto a keyboard.

The Mothership was shaking now.

"Okay," Emma said. "We'll be taking off in three...two…"

Oliver never heard _one_. There was a roar in his ears and his surroundings went dark - and then light, and then dark again. For a few, long seconds, he had no idea which way was _up_. He closed his eyes and clenched his fists as his chair shook violently. He thought about a short piece of dialogue from one of the few books he'd voluntarily read in his youth, _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_ :

" _It's unpleasantly like being drunk."_

" _What's so unpleasant about being drunk?"_

" _You ask a glass of water."*_

_This must be what the water feels like_ , he thought. His stomach flipped multiple times, making him glad it was empty.

And then the shaking stopped and the Mothership was silent. For a moment, no one said a word.

Emma checked the console and grinned. "Well, here we are: New York City, Central Park, June 7, 1884. And I think it's early afternoon – somewhere around two o'clock – if that matters."

She pressed a button and the door to the Mothership opened with a soft hiss. Sunlight wafted inside and Oliver heard birds chirping. It felt amazingly normal after the violent ride he had just taken. He released the buckles that held him in his chair and stood, his legs trembling a little.

"You okay?" Jiya asked as she expertly unclipped her own harness. Her dark hair was a little disheveled, but she looked comfortable and far more at ease than he felt.

"I think so." He retrieved his bow and quiver and moved to the doorway. Then he jumped to the ground, his legs buckling slightly as he landed. It was a strange sensation, to jump into the past, and he was curious to find out what a hundred years ago felt like. Would New York be fresher and more youthful without a century of history pressing down in it? Would it be more innocent? Glancing around, he honestly couldn't tell. The Mothership had landed on the edge of a wooded area, a few yards away from a grassy expanse. There were no people in sight; just the trees and the grass and the birds. It could be a nice June day in any century.

Jiya appeared in the doorway and he reached up to help her. She put her hands on his shoulders as he placed his around her waist and then lifted her down.

She studied him. "You're _sure_ you're okay? You look a little pale."

"As pale as Emma?"

She smiled. "No. She and Carol are changing her bandage, by the way, so we may actually have a few minutes to ourselves."

"Good. Let's get our bearings."

They walked through the trees and into the open field to look around.

"Do you think we're in the right place?" Oliver asked.

Jiya shrugged. "Well, it certainly looks like a park."

Oliver sighed. "Pretty much anything with grass and trees looks like a park." He peered into the distance, using his hand to shade his eyes. "I think the time period is right, anyway," he eventually said. "I see horse-drawn carriages."

Jiya stared. "Yup – I see them, too." After a moment, she added, "I'm pretty sure this _is_ Central Park. See those buildings? They look like brownstones."

"I see them."

He studied the horizon for another minute before turning to her. "Jiya…look…I don't want to hurt anyone – not Rufus or your team – and not Carol or Emma either; although I admit, in Emma's case, it's a little tempting. She doesn't strike me as a very good person."

Jiya smiled but didn't say anything.

"I met all of you a few hours ago," he continued. "I don't know what's going on here and I don't know what's right. My first impression is that history isn't something you meddle with and _everyone_ should leave it alone."

She reached out and rested her hand on his forearm. "That's exactly what _my_ team is about, Oliver; keeping history intact. _Rittenhouse_ is the organization that's trying to change it."

"Then why is your team still in 1884? Why didn't they come back when Rittenhouse didn't stay?"

She bit her lip. "I think Rufus may be in trouble. He's the only one who can pilot the Lifeboat. If he's hurt, the rest of the team is stuck."

He searched her face for signs of deceit and saw none. He nodded slowly. "I see."

She kept her hand on his arm. "So, what now? Will you help?"

He turned away from her and gazed once more at the vague shape of buildings past the trees. "My first priority is Felicity," he replied honestly. "After that, I'm going to play it by ear." He watched a horse-drawn carriage move at a leisurely pace a quarter of a mile away. If he tried to go that slowly on his Ducati, he thought, he would fall over. "You know, I really think this is 1884 New York City. We made it."

Jiya chuckled. "Emma isn't a very good person, but she _is_ a decent pilot."

There was a short bark of laughter. Oliver turned to find Emma and Carol approaching them from the trees. "Damn right on both counts, Jiya," Emma said.

Oliver studied the women in surprise. Emma had changed more than just her bandage. She and Carol were wearing long, full skirts and had coiled their hair up on their heads, presumably in keeping with 1880's fashion. He thought Carol looked like she had stepped out of the pages of a history book, but found Emma less convincing. Maybe it was because he knew she was carrying a Glock somewhere under that skirt.

Emma grinned at Oliver. "Welcome to the 1880s, _Mister_ Queen. No television, no radio, no cell phones. Any idea how you're going to find your guy? Or did you forget to think about that?"

Actually, Oliver _had_ thought about it – quite a bit. He'd picked Central Park as their landing place because he figured Felicity would remain in the location where she'd last seen Barry. The question now was how to narrow it down further. Central Park was pretty damn big.

"There are newspapers and signs," he said slowly, "which might be a way to get his attention. I've got something else I want to try first, though. Something that might be quicker."

The three women looked at him and waited.

"I need to find a tall landmark in the park," he continued. "Something isolated, like a single tree or a flagpole. Probably toward the center of the park, where it will see a lot of traffic."

The four of them stepped further into the field and studied their surroundings.

"We're fairly near the center of the park now," Carol said. "I can see the reservoir over there." She pointed. "See the water and the walking paths? That hasn't changed in a hundred years."

Oliver followed her gestures and saw the edge of the water about a half a mile away.

"Good. Hopefully there's something tall near one of the paths." He began walking toward the reservoir.

"Wait a moment," Carol said. "You can't go like that. You're not appropriately dressed."

Oliver looked down at himself and choked back a laugh. _Not appropriately dressed_ was an understatement. He was still in his Arrow suit, with the hood off and the mask stuffed in one of the jacket pockets. He considered his options for all of two seconds before deciding that he didn't care. Protecting his identity and not standing out weren't important when Felicity could be somewhere in the park at this very moment.

He shrugged. "Doesn't matter."

"But there are people over there," Carol persisted. "When they see you, they're going to wonder…and have questions."

It was true they were beginning to see a few people walking near the reservoir. Oliver could make out women strolling with parasols and men in bowler hats. He shrugged again. "I won't talk to anyone and I won't be long. And I'll get back into the woods as soon as I can."

Carol stared at him indecisively and then sighed. "All right," she conceded. "But Emma and I are coming with you to keep the damage to a minimum. Jiya should probably stay here, since she's not dressed correctly either."

"And give her a chance to steal the Mothership?" Emma snorted. "Hell, no! We're all going."

Carol looked at Emma and her mouth straightened into a prim line. "Fine," she said. "But we need to be quick."

Oliver nodded. "We will be." And without waiting for further discussion, he strode off toward the reservoir. The three women followed on his heels, almost jogging to keep up.

When he got closer to the water he saw several trees that fit the bill, with one standing out above the others. It was tall and very straight, and its trunk was largely free of branches until the top.

He stopped and pulled an arrow out of his quiver.

"What do you plan to do with that?" Emma asked, as the women caught up to him. They were all a little breathless.

"You'll see."

He retrieved the mask from his jacket pocket and threaded the arrow through the eyeholes. Then he fired the arrow at the tree, placing it about thirty feet above the ground. A few of the pedestrians stared, but no one approached him.

Oliver and the women studied the arrow.

"The mask looks pretty small from down here," Emma eventually said. "And it doesn't exactly wave in the breeze. Do you think your guy will see it?"

Oliver continued to look up at it. "Maybe not," he admitted. He thought for a moment. "I'll try something bigger."

He shrugged out of his green leather jacket; then pulled his long-sleeved tee shirt over his head. The shirt was made of the same material used by professional athletes – a black polypropylene that wicked moisture and was very twenty-first century. He shoved an arrow through the armholes and shot it at the tree. The second arrow landed near the first one; but this time the shirt fluttered and danced in the wind.

"There," he said. "Better?"

He lowered his gaze from the tree to find the three women gaping at him. "Well?" he prompted them again. "What do you think? Will he see it?"

Emma's eyes didn't move from his bare torso. "I think Lucy might not be opposed to making Rittenhouse babies with you after all," she said. "Hell, I think _I'd_ be willing to give it a try and I don't even like you."

He frowned. "Excuse me?"

"Never mind, Oliver," Jiya sighed. She picked his jacket up from the ground and handed it to him. "Better put this back on. Even the nineteenth century women are drooling."

Oliver slipped his arms into the jacket and zipped it up.

"What now?" Jiya asked.

He took one more look at his arrow. "Now we go into the trees and wait."

* * *

 

For a man who didn't know anyone in New York City, Nikola Tesla was in no hurry to meet people and make friends. Felicity and the time travelers wandered Central Park for over four hours with no sign of the scientist. Her feet were sore and her bustle and skirt felt like they weighed twenty pounds.

"I'm going to need to sit soon," she said to Lucy.

Lucy frowned. "Let's just take one more pass around the reservoir. If we don't see Tesla, we can take a break."

Felicity sighed. "I don't suppose Tavern on the Green exists yet," she joked, referring the iconic Central Park restaurant. "I could use something to eat and drink."

"Tavern on the Green exists, but it's a sheep fold," Lucy replied seriously. "It doesn't become a restaurant until 1934."

"Crap."

Felicity heard Rufus laugh. He and Wyatt were walking a few paces behind her and Lucy. The team had considered splitting up to search for Tesla, but abandoned that idea when they realized there was no way to contact each other if any of them found him. Felicity had left her useless cell phone in the pocket of her jeans, back in the Lifeboat.

They continued walking toward the reservoir, examining every face they saw. The sun was warm, but not hot, and the air was soft and only slightly humid.

_At least it's a nice day_ , she thought.

A man walking the path in the opposite direction smiled at her and tipped his hat. The gesture felt polite and respectful and Felicity smiled in return. She decided that there were some things about the nineteenth century that weren't so bad. If this were modern-day Star City, the man would have leered at her.

"What the hell do you think that is?" she heard Rufus ask Wyatt. He sounded confused.

She turned to look at the men. Rufus was pointing up at a tree, his brow furrowed. Wyatt was gazing up, too, and shaking his head. "It sure doesn't look nineteenth century," Wyatt said.

Felicity followed the direction of Rufus's finger.

And her heart started beating faster.

There was an arrow sticking out of the tree. Hanging from the arrow and fluttering in the breeze was a black, long-sleeved tee shirt. It looked like something an Olympic sprinter would wear, or maybe an NFL player during a training session. There was nothing remotely old-fashioned about it.

Felicity would know that shirt anywhere. She had seen it - or some version of it – countless nights, sometimes with bullet holes and blood. She had run her hands over it, buried her nose in it, and – more than once – yanked it over the head of the man wearing it. And if for some reason she still had doubts, there was a second arrow next to it in the tree, threaded through the eyeholes of a black mask.

Her heart was pounding now.

"He's here," she said, breaking away from the group and anxiously scanning the faces around her. A dozen questions raced through her mind. _How did he manage to get to the nineteenth century? Was he safe? And where was he at this very moment?_

Lucy caught up to her and grasped her arm. "Who's here?" she asked. "Tesla?"

"No. My husband."

Lucy shook her head. "That's not possible, Felicity. I know you want to return to him, but there's no way your husband could travel back in time."

Felicity pointed at the tree. "That's his shirt. And his mask."

"His _mask?_ "

Felicity nodded. "His mask," she repeated. "And, believe me; he can do anything he wants when he puts his mind to it. He's here."

* * *

Oliver tried to tell himself to be patient and remain hopeful. He'd put the shirt up less than two hours ago and it was a big park. Felicity could be resting on a bench; she could be trying to remain inconspicuous in her modern clothes. There was any number of good reasons why she hadn't yet seen his signal.

There were a few bad reasons, too, but he refused to think about those.

"How long do you want to wait here?" Emma asked Carol. "I mean, we're supposed to be finding out what Lucy and her team is up to, not cooling our heels in the woods."

Carol nodded reluctantly, as if it pained her to agree with Emma. "We'll give it another hour. Then we need to leave the park and get some newspapers so I can see if there are any recent events that don't align with history."

Oliver thought about telling both women that they would stay as long as _he_ wanted, but decided not to waste his breath. He'd fight that battle if there was still no sign of Felicity in sixty minutes. Looking at Emma, he thought there was a chance there might not even be a battle. She was sitting on the ground, with her back against a tree and her face pale and drawn. Oliver had enough personal experience with gunshot wounds and blood loss to know that it required at least twenty-four hours to replace plasma, and far longer to replenish red cells. She had to be exhausted.

Jiya looked tired, too; although not ill, like Emma. She was also sitting, but couldn't seem to stop fidgeting - anxious to find Rufus, Oliver guessed. He understood but wasn't going to bend to her fears. Finding Felicity was his first priority.

He remained on his feet, despite his fatigue. He stood just inside the wooded area and studied the pedestrians around the reservoir, his senses attuned to any woman who was on her own or looked out of place. From the cover of the trees, he had good view of the people coming and going a few hundred yards away. A large number of them paused to look up at the shirt, but they were all distinctly nineteenth century. The women wore long dresses and the men were in woolen suits – and they were all paired up in some way or another; no one was alone. Many of them examined his arrows for a minute or two but then resumed walking.

Oliver didn't think his jaw could get any tighter.

A pair of men stopped and stared up the tree and Oliver saw two women turn and join them in conversation. _Two couples_ , he thought, _out for a stroll_. From his position, he could see that one of the women was blonde and the other was dark-haired, but couldn't quite make out their faces. Both were wearing long, full skirts, and appeared to be friends. The dark-haired woman was tugging on the arm of the blonde and the blonde was shaking her head.

He shifted his gaze to other pedestrians. Felicity would be alone.

He returned his attention to the couples, though, when he realized they were lingering around the tree longer than the others. The blonde was animated and he watched her break away from the dark-haired woman and start examining the area around her, spinning in a slow circle as she scanned her surroundings. The dark-haired woman followed, still talking to the blonde.

Oliver stepped out of the trees and into the open to get a better look.

When the blonde woman reached the point in her circle where she was facing him, she stopped and stared. He still couldn't see her features, but he could tell that she was wearing glasses with dark frames.

Dark frames, not nineteenth century wire frames.

His heart skipped a beat and for an instant, he froze; afraid to even think it - afraid his mind was filling in gaps that weren't there. After all this time, after all the obstacles, he was prepared for something else to go wrong and not for how to react when he actually found her. He knew that if he closed the distance between them only to learn he was mistaken, it was going to kill him.

He took a few more tentative steps toward her.

"Oliver?" Jiya called from the trees.

He didn't answer - just kept walking, every muscle in his body tight.

The blonde stared at him for only a second or two longer before she suddenly started running; running toward him as fast as that ridiculous big bell of a skirt would allow her. Her hair came loose from whatever had been holding it up on her head, falling onto her shoulders in a very familiar way.

His doubts disappeared and he couldn't stay still a second longer. He also began running, but then saw that the two men she'd been with were chasing after her.

_What the hell?_

He stopped and lifted his bow, nocking an arrow and aiming at the men – planning to disable, not kill. He was a millisecond away from releasing the bowstring when Jiya caught up to him and grabbed his arm.

" _Don't!_ " she cried. "Don't shoot."

He lowered his bow arm. "Why? What the hell is going on?"

"I don't-"

Felicity made it to him before Jiya could finish her answer and before the men could catch her. When she was two feet away, she launched herself at him, crashing into his chest and wrapping her arms around his neck.

" _Oliver!"_

He dropped the bow and put his own arms around her waist, pulling her tight against him, lifting her feet off the ground. Relief flooded his body as he held her, like a shot of morphine easing terrible pain. He lowered his head to press his lips against her hair. It was warm from the sun and smelled exactly the way it always did – clean and a little like her watermelon shampoo. A hundred years hadn't changed that.

"Felicity," he whispered, not putting her down. "I can't believe it."

She tucked her face into his neck. "Me either. For a few seconds, I thought I was imagining things. I was so worried I might never see you again."

"I know – me too."

He tightened his arms, not wanting to break contact. Her grip was vise-like on his neck and it felt wonderful.

So they stayed that way. Stayed that way as the strength and life flowed back into his body; stayed that way as the men and the dark-haired woman caught up to them; stayed that way as he was dimly aware of the voices and the questions bubbling up around them.

" _Jiya, how did you get here?"_

" _Oh, Rufus, you're all right. Why didn't you come home?"_

" _What are you doing with The Green Arrow?"_

" _What do you mean, he's her_ husband? _"_

Then Oliver heard a click - a soft, familiar sound he'd heard far too many times before. It was the click of a safety being removed from a gun.

He put Felicity down, but kept her pressed tightly against him. One of the men who had chased her was pointing a pistol, alternating his aim between Oliver and the woods behind him. Oliver turned to see Emma and Carol walking out of the trees. Emma had her Glock in her hand.

The man eyed Oliver suspiciously. "What's Rittenhouse doing here?"

_Crap!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments, kudos...and just for reading. It's good to finally have Oliver and Felicity together, although a lot of explaining has to happen in the next chapter.
> 
> Every character is missing a piece of the story. Only you, dear readers, are completely aware of everything that has happened.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to bushlaboo for the edit. There were a lot of characters to juggle in this chapter and her comments were a good sanity check.

 

Oliver wasn't a huge fan of swearing - which, on the surface, might seem a little out of character. He was, after all, a tough and single-minded man, prone to using violence to resolve dangerous predicaments. He didn't dwell on nuances, he sure as hell didn't favor diplomacy, and he was rarely afraid of offending people…other than his wife.

Still, he'd never been one to sprinkle four letter words liberally in his sentences and he disliked the custom of using the f-bomb as a substitute for _very._ _F-ing huge, f-ing, great, f-ing awful_ …it rendered the word meaningless. He liked to save cursing for the moments that really called for it.

And in his opinion, this moment called for it.

He was holding Felicity, with Emma Whitmore standing behind him and aiming a Glock at his back. On his other side, a perfect one hundred and eighty degrees opposite Emma, was one of the men who had just chased Felicity, also pointing a Glock. The arrangement made him and Felicity the filling in a Glock sandwich. It was a situation he might have been able to accept for himself but couldn't tolerate for his wife.

So he did what any caring and devoted husband would do.

He cursed. " _Fuck!"_

And then he pushed his wife to the ground; as gently as he could, but evidently hard enough to make a soft _oof_ escape her lips and force the big skirt she was wearing to briefly swell upward, like a parachute right before touchdown. He dove over her and pressed his chest to her back, but found it difficult to shield the lower half of her body due to some kind of cage that was under her skirt and over her backside. He shifted several times in an effort to improve contact and failed miserably.

He lowered his head to her ear. "What on earth are you wearing?" he murmured.

Felicity mumbled something he couldn't quite catch.

"I'm sorry?"

"It's called a _bustle_ ," Felicity said in a louder voice. "Women in the 1880s wore them under their skirts to accentuate their asses."

"But your ass is perfect just as it is. It doesn't need accentuation. And why are you dressed in 1880's clothes, anyway?"

She sighed. "It's a long story…which, if we both stay alive, I promise to tell you."

Her words were a chilling reminder of their tenuous situation and Oliver turned his attention back to options for protecting her. Unfortunately, there weren't many. He'd spread his body as completely as he could over Felicity, but knew in his heart that it wasn't going to make a difference. Despite all the blood she'd lost, Emma Whitmore was pointing her gun with ease and the man opposite her appeared equally as determined. From this range, the bullet from a Glock would go straight through Oliver and into Felicity, making them both sitting ducks. It would be horribly unfair, Oliver thought, to finally reunite with his wife in 1884, only to be killed by gunfire.

Still, no one had actually fired yet…which suggested there were other factors in play.

He leaned to his right and looked over his shoulder. The steady stream of pedestrians in Central Park had vanished, leaving Emma and the man facing each other with only a handful of witnesses. The expressions on the pair were angry, but also cautious - and maybe even a little respectful. Oliver was certain there was history between them. They had faced off before, he guessed, with mixed results. To his surprise – and relief – they were speaking to each other and weren't sparing a glance for him and Felicity.

He breathed out – just a little.

"They're not aiming at us," he said into Felicity's ear.

She nodded – as much as it was possible for anyone to nod when lying face-down on the ground. "I didn't think Wyatt would shoot _me._ I wasn't sure how he was going to react to _you_ , especially looking the way you are. I told them I was married to Oliver Queen. I didn't tell them you were The Green Arrow. I honestly didn't think you'd make it to the 1880s…and I _definitely_ didn't think you would come in the suit."

Oliver pressed his nose into her hair. "I had to steal a time ship to get to you. Doing it as The Green Arrow felt like the best option. I thought I'd put the fear of God into them."

"I see."

And then Oliver thought about what she'd just said. _Wyatt._ He'd heard the name a couple of times in discussion with Jiya, although not nearly as often as _Rufus_. Wyatt-with-the-Glock was part of Agent Christopher's team, he realized. It was unlikely there were two time-traveling _Wyatts_.

He put his mouth next to Felicity's ear again. "So that's Wyatt? Then I'm guessing the other guy who chased you is Rufus."

She nodded awkwardly once more. "Yeah - Wyatt's the guy with the Glock and Rufus is the other guy. How'd you know that?"

"I met a friend of theirs when I was trying to find a time machine and she mentioned that her team included a Wyatt and a Rufus." He squeezed Felicity's shoulder and grinned. "And I think she and I just managed to kill two birds with one stone."

"You're going to have to explain that one a little more, Oliver."

"She and I stole a time machine and came to 1884 together," he clarified, "although for different reasons. I was looking for you and she was looking for her team. And it turns out you're both in the same place."

Felicity frowned. "And now she's pointing a gun at Wyatt? Some friend."

Oliver looked up to assess the state of the Wyatt-Emma standoff and saw that, sure enough, Emma was still aiming her pistol at the man. The two were engaged in some kind of _I'll lower mine if you_ _lower yours_ dialogue _._

He shook his head. "The woman with the gun is _not_ the friend. She's the woman who has the time machine that we stole."

Felicity's brow creased as she absorbed this information. "Oh."

"The friend's name is Jiya," Oliver continued. He craned his neck to broaden his view. "She's standing next to Rufus now." Indeed, Jiya was pressed to Rufus's side, as if she needed the physical contact to assure herself that he was alive and well. Oliver could understand that. He felt the same about touching Felicity.

His wife, on the other hand, shifted uneasily under him. The movement caused him check once more for threats, and seeing none, made him wonder if he was simply getting heavy. She'd never minded his weight before, but then he usually rested his bulk on her under pleasanter circumstances. He lifted himself on one elbow to provide relief and laid his other hand on her ribcage.

She took advantage of the move to turn her head and study Emma.

"So who _is_ the woman with the Glock, then? And why does she have a time machine?"

Oliver followed her gaze. "Her name is Emma Whitmore. She's part of some wingnut organization called Rittenhouse that wants to take over the world. One of their tactics is to go back in time and change history. That's why she has a time machine."

" _She's_ Rittenhouse?"

"Yeah. You've heard of it?"

Felicity exhaled loudly. "I learned about it yesterday. Now I understand why Wyatt is pointing his gun at her. He hates Rittenhouse."

"They're not too high on my list, either."

"Is that why you shot her? I see she has a bandage on her arm."

Oliver shook his head. "I didn't shoot her. One of her own team members did - by mistake."

She smiled. "Nice team." Then her smile faded. "Why did you bring her?" It was a genuine question, not a criticism. Felicity sounded as if she were examining the pieces of a puzzle prior to putting them together.

Oliver squeezed her shoulder again. "She's here because she has a time machine and she knows how to fly it," he explained. "It was way too complicated for me to figure out."

"Ah. Makes sense."

Suddenly Felicity gasped and stiffened.

He felt her fear flow into him. "What is it?" he asked, anxiously scanning the area for new dangers.

"Please tell me that's _not_ your mother standing near Emma."

Oliver followed her gaze once again and saw that Carol Preston had moved nearer to them. He felt an unexpected urge to smile; Felicity appeared more frightened of his mother than she'd been of the Glocks.

He rubbed his hand reassuringly along her ribcage. "It's not Mom."

"You're sure? Then it's the woman who looks like her? Lucy's mother?"

He leaned forward and pressed his lips against the back of her neck. It wasn't the right time for the kiss but he couldn't help himself; he was so relieved to be holding her again. "You know about that, too? You _have_ been busy."

"I've been stuck in 1884 for a day, Oliver, and I've been trying to find ways to get home. I met a group of time travelers and - somewhere along the line - saw a photo of a woman who looks very much like your mother, so I asked about it."

He felt a small surge of pride. _Trust Felicity not to wait to be rescued_. "I knew you wouldn't sit back and do nothing," he murmured appreciatively.

She reached out awkwardly from under him and squeezed his forearm. "It must be strange for you – seeing her."

"It's weird," he admitted, grateful for her empathy. He caressed her ribs once more. Her waist felt unfamiliar – rigid and unyielding. "Felicity?"

"Hmm?"

"What on earth are you wearing on your top half? It feels like armor under there."

She sighed. "A corset. Another instrument of torture that women imposed upon themselves in the nineteenth century."

"Is it bulletproof?"

For the first time since they'd reunited, she chuckled. "No. It just seems that way."

"Damn. Then what's the point?"

"I'm not sure really. I think the point is to shrink the waist. They liked little waists and big butts in the nineteenth century."

"Well, I'm glad _we_ don't live in the nineteenth century. Bustles…corsets... How in hell do guys manage to cop a feel?"

She laughed again. The sound truly was music to his ears. "These are different times, Oliver. I don't think guys are as interested in copping feels."

He shook his head. "Guys _always_ want to cop a feel. There are paintings on cave walls that show Neanderthals doing it."

"Well, I think I can safely promise you that when we get back home, I will never wear a corset again and you can cop all the feels you like."

He grinned. "I'm going to hold you to that promise." He looked up and saw that Wyatt had lowered his arm to his side, although the man was still gripping the Glock with white knuckles and glaring at Emma. "Speaking of getting home," Oliver continued, "maybe we should get to our feet and see what we can do to move that process along."

She hesitated and the smile disappeared from her face. "Okay."

Her response was less enthusiastic than he would have expected and he wondered what was going on in her busy mind. There must be something about their situation that he wasn't aware of, he thought; some snag she hadn't yet told him about. Whatever it was, he decided he wanted to learn about it when they were both upright and he had his bow in his hand. It would give them more options.

He rolled off of her and stood; then reached down to help Felicity up. She got to her feet awkwardly, struggling with her long, full skirt. When Oliver was satisfied she was steady, he tugged on her hand to pull them out of the line of fire between Emma and Wyatt. Then he retrieved his bow and returned to her side. The result was that the group was now standing in a circle, loosely arranged in pairs; Jiya was next to Rufus, the dark-haired woman who had been walking with Felicity was next to Wyatt, Carol was beside Emma, and Oliver stood by Felicity. Everyone except Oliver and Jiya was in 1880s clothing, making the group appear like a twisted scene from a period movie; a nineteenth century garden party that had somehow gotten tangled up with Glocks and the Arrow suit.

Emma turned her glare from Wyatt to Oliver.

"So," she said sarcastically, "you wanted to go to 1884 to recover your tech _guy?_ " She had also lowered her gun but appeared poised to raise it again at the slightest provocation. "Silly me - I was picturing a scientist like Rufus, here. I wasn't expecting Blondie." She grinned maliciously. "Hell, if the two of you were down on the ground any longer I was going to tell you to get a room."

Oliver shrugged. "Felicity _is_ my tech support. She also happens to be my wife."

"You're married," Carol Preston stated. "I must have missed that in my research." She sounded disappointed.

Emma laughed. "Oh dear, Carol. I guess that means he won't be making Rittenhouse babies with Lucy after all."

" _What?"_

The exclamation came simultaneously from Felicity, Wyatt _and_ the dark-haired woman. _She must be Lucy_ , Oliver thought, eyeing the woman curiously. _My cousin_.

Emma laughed again and addressed Lucy directly. "What's the matter? You thought you were the only Rittenhouse royalty around here, Princess? Well, meet Prince Oliver. You and he share a great-grandpa."

Lucy narrowed her eyes at Emma before turning to Oliver.

"Is it true?" she asked.

It was a lousy way for her to hear the news – from a bitch like Emma. He could feel everyone's eyes staring at him expectantly - Felicity's, most of all. "I think so," he replied. "When Jiya and I were," he paused, " _borrowing_ the Mothership, I met another member of Rittenhouse – Nicholas Something or Other. He looks young, but he was really born before World War I. He told me he is my mother's grandfather - and then explained how. He has no reason to lie about it."

Wyatt snorted. "Nicholas Keynes – you met Nicholas _Keynes_. And he has _every_ reason to lie – he'll do anything to advance Rittenhouse's vision of the world. He'd love to have you buy into the bullshit that you belong to some elite group and then talk you into fighting for them, especially since The Green Arrow is such a good fighter…which is who you are, right?" When Oliver nodded, Wyatt added, "Felicity told us about her husband, Oliver Queen, but failed to mention that he had another identity." There was no rancor in his tone. He almost sounded amused.

Oliver reached down and grasped Felicity's hand. "We all have secrets. Does everyone in your families know that you travel in time?" He gestured at Wyatt, Lucy, Rufus and Jiya.

Lucy looked at Carol. "They certainly do in mine, but I think I'm the exception." She pushed a few strands of dark hair off her face. "Was Nicholas telling the truth, Mom? Are we related to Oliver's mother…and to Oliver?"

Her tone was both suspicious and hopeful, and Oliver understood immediately. Lucy wasn't hoping he was her relative so much as she was hoping her mother would tell her the truth. There was doubt in her voice but he could tell she hadn't given up entirely on their relationship - she wanted to believe Carol would be honest with her. It was so similar to his own relationship with his mother that he immediately felt kinship with Lucy.

Carol held out her hands. "You know as much as I do, Lucy. I heard the story for the first time when Nicholas told Oliver. He never said anything to me before. I certainly would have told you if I'd learned we had family."

She sounded truthful, but Oliver didn't know if that was a good enough reason to believe her. His own mother had been an accomplished liar and he suspected it was a trait she shared with Carol.

Lucy bit her lip and didn't reply. She turned to Jiya. "You were there when Nicholas spoke to Oliver?"

Jiya nodded.

"So, what do you think?" Lucy continued.

Jiya hesitated. "I can't vouch for Nicholas's truthfulness," she replied slowly, "but I _can_ speak to Oliver's reaction when he saw Carol. He called her _Mom_ and almost dropped his bow. The two women must look very much alike." She gave Oliver an apologetic glance, as if to say, _sorry for letting them know that even The Green Arrow has human moments._

He smiled at her to signal that he was okay with it.

"Felicity had the same reaction when she saw the picture in your locket," Wyatt offered to Lucy. "She thought she was looking at a picture of her mother-in-law – remember?"

Lucy nodded.

"Meaning it's likely the two women share DNA." Rufus spoke for the first time. "Well that - or something really weird happened to the space-time continuum and Lucy's mom managed to duplicate herself."

The group stared at him in silence.

"Oh, for God's sake, that was a joke," he explained. As Jiya gave him an annoyed look he added, "And judging by your expressions, not a very good one."

"No," Wyatt agreed soberly. "One Carol Preston is more than enough for me." He glanced down at the Glock in his hand as if debating whether to holster it, and then left it where it was. "So," he continued, "we think Oliver, aka The Green Arrow, really could be Lucy's relative…and a descendant of David Rittenhouse?" He spoke to the group in general but his gaze was fixed on Lucy.

Lucy returned the gaze with warmth and reached out to squeeze his hand. After a moment, she turned to study Oliver. She had lovely eyes; dark, intelligent and experienced. She'd seen a thing or two, he thought, in her time travels. And judging by the gun Wyatt carried, she'd also survived some hairy situations. She was tough, he guessed – tougher than she appeared.

"What are you thinking?" he asked her.

She pursed her lips. "I'm not sure yet. It's kind of a shock. You've had more time to absorb the news —what do _you_ think?"

Oliver looked down at Felicity. They were still holding hands, and she tightened her grasp as she gave him an encouraging smile. "I think I'm happy about it," he said truthfully. "I don't have many relatives. Felicity and my son, of course, are my family, but it's nice to believe I have a cousin in this world…even if it's a distant cousin. And I think you and I have a few things in common." He glanced at Carol.

Lucy followed his glance and he saw that she understood. _We both know what it's like to deal with complicated, ethically-challenged mothers._

She gave him a small nod before continuing, "But what about the other thing…the Rittenhouse connection. What do you think about that?" She sounded worried.

"Rittenhouse?" Oliver grimaced. "I'm not big on organizations that want to take over the world and tell everyone how to live his life. I've fought against them ever since I picked up the bow. I don't think Emma has to worry about _Prince Oliver_ claiming his inheritance."

Lucy smiled.

"And yet," Carol said pointedly, "The Green Arrow runs around Star City shooting people for not behaving as _he_ thinks they should. You're in no position to claim the moral high ground, Oliver."

Oliver shook his head. "There's a big difference between you and me. I stop people who break the law – people the police can't or won't stop. I don't interfere in the lives of law-abiding citizens."

Carol looked at him coolly but didn't argue. He knew she would refuse to see the distinction.

"So now that you know about Rittenhouse, does that mean you'll try to stop us?" Emma asked him. She was wearing a confident grin, as if his answer didn't matter, but her bravado felt forced.

 _She's tired_ , he thought. _She's been on her feet a long time and that arm has to killing her._

He considered her question. Rittenhouse was evil and he made it his mission to fight evil. He would never want them to succeed. On the other hand, there was already a team dedicated to fighting Rittenhouse - a pretty damn competent team, judging by what he had seen. And he had plenty of enemies on his plate already; there were days when he thought he'd be fighting forever. He didn't need to take on more.

He looked into Felicity's eyes, hoping to read her thoughts, but only saw love and support.

He turned to Emma. "If I find you interfering with the people of Star City," he replied, "you're damn right I'll stop you." He entwined his fingers more tightly with Felicity's. "But at this moment – right now?" he continued. "I just want to bring Felicity home – to get us back to our proper time. I have no intention of chasing you through history – unless you do something that forces me too."

Emma's grin disappeared. "If you really mean that," she said soberly, "then I'll take you both home, right now."

She was telling the truth - he could see it. It made sense, he thought, from her perspective - to get him out of her hair. He was less likely to interfere with Rittenhouse if he was with his family, living his life in the proper century. Of course, she could also try to kill him; but she'd probably realized by now that he wasn't all that easy to kill. And she was tired from blood loss; and she was hurting.

 _Felicity, we're going home._ His heart lifted.

Carol put a hand on Emma's arm. "But Emma, Nicholas wanted us to investigate 1884, remember? To make sure no one was tampering with history? We haven't done that yet."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Nicholas – he loves having us at his beck and call, and he's always willing to put _my_ neck on the line and never too eager to risk his own." She turned to Lucy. "Are you trying to change history, Princess?" she asked abruptly.

Lucy shook her head. "No, but-"

"You see?" Emma said to Carol. "Princess and her team don't interfere with history; that's our M.O., not theirs. We're wasting our time here." When Carol looked at her doubtfully, Emma continued, "Look – if you want to stay behind and trust your daughter to give you a ride home in the Lifeboat, that's fine with me. I'm taking the Mothership back to the present - now." She gestured to Oliver. "Let's go."

He took a step, but stopped when Felicity tugged on his hand and didn't move. He turned to her and saw worry in her eyes, and his heart sank a little. He recalled that she hadn't seemed terribly excited when he'd mentioned going home a few minutes ago. He had a feeling he was about to discover why.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

She looked down at the ground and then up at him reluctantly.

"Oliver, there's a problem."

"Problem?" he echoed. His heart sank further.

She nodded. "I might have accidentally changed a tiny thing in history yesterday. I didn't mean to, it just kind of happened." She sounded embarrassed.

"There - you see?" Carol said calmly to Emma. "Nicholas was right. History _is_ being interfered with. We need to stay and find out what they did."

Emma shook her head. "She said _one tiny thing_ , Carol. And as far as I can tell, everything around here seems normal. Besides, if they were really trying to change history to hurt Rittenhouse, she wouldn't have admitted to it just now. She would have lied."

Carol's mouth flattened into a straight line and she didn't reply.

"I say we go home," Emma said.

 _Yes_ , Oliver thought, _let's do that_.

He looked into Felicity's eyes and saw conflict in them. He was tempted to try to persuade her, but didn't want to force his wife to do something she felt was wrong – although, at the moment, he honestly didn't understand _why_ it would be wrong. To the best of his knowledge, his life with Felicity hadn't changed. She remained his wife and they lived in Star City with his son. He wanted to get home before that was no longer the case. _One tiny thing_ was probably not significant.

"Felicity?" he encouraged.

She took a deep breath. "I met Nikola Tesla in Central Park yesterday," she began. "I didn't _try_ to meet him. It was his first day in America and I think he was lonely and a little frightened. He just came up and started talking to me."

"Nikola Tesla, the _inventor_?" Oliver asked, and his heart lost whatever lightness it had gained. Tesla was a significant figure in history - not someone he would put in the _tiny little thing_ category.

She nodded. "Uh-huh." She looked down at the ground again and appeared to be searching for words. It was never a good sign, he thought, when she was speechless.

"You met Tesla and…?" he prompted.

"And we started talking," she continued. "I was still in my modern clothes and he was curious about it. I couldn't exactly tell him that I live in 2018 and had travelled back in time, so I told him I was from the west and that it wasn't all that unusual to see women dressed like this on the other side of the country."

She paused.

"And?" he prompted again.

"And the conversation eventually came around to electricity. About AC versus DC current. I think I got a little excited – you know how I can get about science, Oliver. And – I mean - I was talking to Nikola-Frackin'-Tesla, after all. The man's a genius. It would have been impossible not to get a _little_ enthusiastic."

He sighed. "And?"

"And he kind of asked me out."

Oliver half-choked, half-coughed. "On a _date_?"

She shook her head. "No…no…not really a date. Just to supper. You know - a bite to eat with a friendly face. It was his first day in America, after all."

Oliver ran his hand over the back of his neck. "I think supper qualifies as a date," he said dryly.

Felicity grimaced. "That's not the point, Oliver."

She was probably right about that. They still hadn't gotten to the part where history had changed. _That_ was the point. He inhaled. "I assume you said _no_?"

She nodded. "I did, but he was pretty persistent and started to follow me. I finally agreed to have supper with him tonight, just to get him to go away. I figured it was a safe bet – I thought Barry would figure out how to get me back to the present day before then and I'd never have to see Tesla again."

They were getting closer to the problem – Oliver could sense it. "But?" he urged.

"But Barry didn't come. And in the meantime, we learned that my conversation with Tesla may have been a little…life altering… for him."

Oliver put his index finger under her chin, then gently tilted it upward until she was meeting his gaze. "How life altering?" he asked softly.

Her blue eyes were full of guilt. "Tesla decided not to take a job with Thomas Edison in New York, the way he's supposed to. He's decided to go out west, where women wear jeans and are educated in the sciences."

Oliver frowned. That was not the answer he was expecting and he didn't think it sounded so terrible. "So Tesla wants to take a trip out west," he said slowly. "That doesn't seem like the end of civilization as we know it."

Felicity's gaze faltered and she looked to Lucy as if asking for help, but it was actually Carol Preston who provided an explanation. "Tesla is supposed to work for Edison for about six months," she said. "In that time, he will try to convince Edison that AC current, not DC, is the future for delivering electricity to homes. When Edison fails to agree with his vision, Tesla will quit his job and eventually partner with George Westinghouse. It's the perfect combination; Tesla's a genius and Westinghouse has the financial backing to build AC power plants. If Tesla goes west instead, he may never meet Westinghouse."

Carol, the historian, sounded sure of her facts, so Oliver figured her story about Edison was accurate. He still didn't understand why the change was so important, though. He lifted his hands helplessly. "And that's a big deal because?"

"Because Westinghouse's plants have the ability to deliver electricity over a great distance - to homes in rural areas, far away from the cities," Lucy replied. "Edison's approach would reserve electricity for the wealthy city dwellers," She exchanged a glance with her mother, and for a moment, the two women appeared in accord. "Electricity in the home allowed people to study at night and to buy labor saving tools. It created an entirely new educated population – people who normally would have been farmers and laborers could now go on to be writers, doctors, scientists – you name it. It's one important step in speeding up the pace of technology development."

Oliver frowned. "But won't someone eventually start building AC power plants anyway? I mean, the best ideas usually rise to the surface."

Lucy nodded. "Sure. But it will take longer, and it means many technologies could be delayed by thirty or forty years. Some of the things we're used to now – computers and the internet, for example – might not be available."

Felicity flinched.

Emma glowered at Lucy and Carol. It was clear that she didn't like seeing the two women in agreement and she wasn't happy about delaying the trip home. "Edison's on our side," she said impatiently. "He's Rittenhouse. So shouldn't we want to advance _his_ ideas? This sounds like a good thing to me."

Carol shook her head. "Not in this case. Think about it Emma. When did Connor Mason first develop a working time machine?"

Emma shrugged. "I don't know – three or four years ago?"

Carol nodded. "Exactly. So suppose Tesla gets on a train and heads out west, and people get electricity thirty years later than they're supposed to. What do you think that means for the creation of the time machine? Do you think it might be delayed?"

Emma shrugged again. "Maybe. It's tough to say."

"It's a reasonable probability and it's a chance I don't want to take," Carol said crisply. "Good heavens, we could walk back to the Mothership now only to find it gone – leaving us stranded. Not to mention that Rittenhouse's strategy is predicated on time travel. Delaying that could undo all the progress we've managed to make." She looked at Lucy. "We need to get Tesla to stay in New York and work for Edison."

Lucy met her mother's eyes and nodded. "I know. Our reasons may not be the same, but I agree Tesla has to stay."

Oliver's head was starting to spin. The chance the Mothership could disappear sounded to him like a very good reason to return to it right away. He was with Felicity now, thank God, but his son and his sister were a century away and he couldn't begin to guess the implications for them if time travel suddenly ceased to exist.

Jiya looked at Rufus. "Do you guys have a plan for getting Tesla to stay?"

Rufus sighed. "We do. I'm not sure it's a great plan, but since we're having trouble even _finding_ the guy, it's the only one we've got."

"What is it?" Oliver asked quickly. He had a feeling he wasn't going to like the answer.

Rufus, Lucy and Wyatt all looked at Felicity. "The plan is for Felicity to go on her date with Tesla," Wyatt answered for them. "And she's going to talk him out of leaving."

Oliver's feeling had been correct; he didn't like the plan. "You couldn't come up with something else?" He posed the question to the group but his eyes were on Felicity.

"No," Wyatt said shortly, "we couldn't. First of all, the only way we're even going to locate the man is by going to the place where he said he would meet Felicity. And second," he added before Oliver could interrupt, "it makes sense that Felicity is the one to talk to him. She managed to get him to change his original plan and decide to go out west. She should have enough influence to get him to change back."

Oliver started to shake his head, but Felicity stilled him by reaching up and placing her palm against his cheek. "There's no danger, Oliver," she said gently. "We're supposed to meet at a bench right here in Central Park. You can be nearby watching. I'll just talk to him and then…it will be over. It's simple."

Oliver frowned. "When are things ever simple, Felicity?"

She smiled. "Never. But in this case, it's about as close as it gets."

 _Famous last words_ , he thought.

"We don't have a choice," Wyatt added. "It's our best shot at getting Tesla to stay."

No one disagreed – not even Emma.

Oliver sighed. "Fine," he said last, staring down into Felicity's eyes. "But I'm going to be very close by. I can't risk us getting separated again."

She nodded. "That's okay, Oliver. As soon as this is fixed, I want us to go home."

She dropped her hand from his cheek and ran her fingers through her hair, pushing it back into some semblance of order. He watched her long, full skirt dance around in the breeze.

"At least," he added soberly, "I know the guy won't be able to cop a feel."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for continuing to follow. Looking forward to the "Timeless" TV movie coming up in a couple of weeks...


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